The idea that beauty knows no pain is hogwash! HOGWASH!
Listen, if a Brazilian wax is the mark of beauty, then my friends, beauty knows ALL the pain. ALL!
Years ago I did my first Brazilian wax. My vajayjay was not happy. Simply put, she felt attacked and, quite frankly, so did I. Sheesh! I mean seriously are Brazilians that violent?
I remember the sensation of the initial burn from the "too hot wax" so well. It caused a reflex reaction resulting in me trapping the esthetician's arms in a dead lock between my legs. She prized it open and slapped the wax paper directly onto my prized possession (see what I did there?), then as in what felt like a vengeful act yanked the paper.
"We can't let the wax get cold" she reasoned.
What followed really disturbed me. She took her hand and pressed it firmly against my 'sweet girl'.
What in the crud muffin is this?
"This will help ease the pain." she said.
Then before I could utter another word, more hot wax.
What is that sulfurous odor? I thought.
It's possible I passed out.
I may or may not have died but the yank of the wax paper brought me right back into consciousness.
I don't recall what immediately followed but I do remember demanding to see the paper before she disposed of it. I was convinced something came out. What? The pain was UNREAL and the charcoallike smell was disquieting.
A few more pulls and some more hand pressing later we (my traumatized girl and I), staggered through the lobby and left. Feeling judged by the people but too shocked to be bothered.
It took me some time to look at her. She was swollen with anger and I felt guilty.
Eventually I mustered up the courage to look and although she looked great, she made me promise to never put her through that torment again. I promised. Or did I? Well, I did, but that was then.
A couple weeks ago a friend convinced me that the 'sugaring' method is a lot less painful and of course, I fell for it. C'mon! Who wouldn't believe a friend? Also, I honestly really loved the way she looked and I knew she loved it too 😉
I made an appointment and boldly entered the room with my enthusiastic esthetician (Why do they always seem so eager and upbeat? Geez!)
The mood was light and the vibe felt right.
As she smeared the 'sugar' over my once-bitten-twice-shy girl, I lost all hope in mankind. I think the lights flickered and I died. I think I'm still dead.
"Ok! That's it! Leave it so. I done!" I heard myself saying out loud.
"I can't leave it like this!" she explained.
"I'll get it off when I get home. It's fine. We'll be ok."
Nene (let's say that was her name) looked at me in horror.
"No! Let me at least remove it and if you really want to leave then you can do so."
"I'll remove it at home. I'm sure some rubbing alcohol will do the trick."
"No ma'am. The only thing that 'may' work is paint thinners and surely you're not going to use that? Are you?"
At this point Nene had already decided that I was probably a lunatic and the idea of using paint thinners was something I would definitely consider. She was not wrong.
By this time I was sitting up considering my options.
A smearing of blue colored "sugaring" wax covered my girl and I could feel the throbbing sense of mistrust and hurt.
Reluctantly, I allowed Nene to continue, not to completion but, just enough to look okish and to keep me from having to go purchase paint thinners.
I walked into the lobby and the judgy stares told me my howls echoed through the hallways. Or maybe it was the views as expressed by this lady who by the way, is in no way a spokeswoman for the 'we the people' 😤
"I was wondering who was waxing a child?"
"I AM a child!" I responded.
And then I disarmed her with
"Aren't we all children of God?"
Ha! Seriously, what could she say at that point? Exactly!
Anyway, my next appointment is in one week. Send some good vibes to me and my girl. 😆