Mandatory First Brazilian Wax Survival Blog Entry

7 01 2011

Disclaimer: This entry is not recommended for humans under 18, and blood relatives of the author. Especially the latter, because it will be gross and awkward the next time I see them.

So I got my nether region waxed the other day, and it was a horrible, horrible experience. I would like to think of myself as impervious to all kinds of pain, including tattooing, dysmenorrhea and common social situations, but hot damn, getting waxed down there is really something else.

I’d been wanting to get waxed for quite a while now in order to feel cleaner and keep my man-slave at bay, but I finally got around to it only upon learning how common the practice had become. I figured, if most girls could do it (and I imagined most girls being pansy-assed compared to me), then I could do it.Ā  I strutted into that waxing salon yesterday like I’d lived there all my life.

The fact of the matter is, however, getting your pubes ripped out from the roots with a clump of wax is getting your pubes ripped out from the roots with a clump of wax. The whole experience was anti-intuitive: giving away your hard-earned cash to feel incredible pain over and over and over again. To give all of you a clearer idea, my thoughts during the actual process went something like this:

Ow. Ouch. Okay. Ow. HOLY MOTHER OF GOD. Ow. Ouch. Ouch. Agh. PUTANG INA MO MAMATAY KA NA. Ouch. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ouch. PAKINGSHET TAMA NA TAMA NA GUSTO KO NA UMUWI PLEASE PLEASE GUSTO KO NA UMUWI PLEASE. Ouch. Ow. Okay. Okay. Ow. FUCK. Okay. Ow.

I was supposed to just rest my thigh against the waxer’s torso to steady myself, but I was practically kneeing her over and over again from the pain. I was clutching the towel so hard, I could feel my nails digging into my palm through the terrycloth. I tried staring at one blank spot on the ceiling, tried going through my repository of happy thoughts, but nothing. I was tearing up; I was gasping.

The waxer cheerily informed me that I had bled a little.

I was dazed when we were done, stumbling out of the salon and plodding aimlessly around the mall like a solider told that the war was over. I guess a Brazilian’s also akin to losing your virginity; there’s that moment after when all you can think of is Thank god, THAT’S over.

I know I’m coming off as melodramatic, and I know the waxings will get less and less painful from month to month due to finer hairs, but things like these need to be vented, yo. They need to be documented for, well, posterity. Something to calm me and/or future spawn down the next time one of us gets new ink or has a trike run over her leg.

Of course, I will do my best to make this a regular thing, nonetheless. There’s no denying that the finished product is very, very beneficial. I had good reasons for going and these reasons still stand. It’s just a bitch is all. And suffice it to say that my man-slave owes me big time. I’m thinking about 3-4 dinners-on-him per month/waxing should do just fine.

So hi, everyone. My name is Margie, and I’m a (smooth and supple) pansy-ass.

(Image from gabrielutasi.com)

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2 responses

2 02 2011
Angge M01

Hi Margie! I stumbled upon this entry after reading your piece about the Filipino Freethinkers. šŸ™‚ I had my first Brazilian wax last December 2010 so I can thoroughly sympathise. It hurt but what really helped me was a liberal intake of Advil before the procedure. I took one Advil tablet one hour before and two Advil tablets 20-30 minutes before I stepped into the room of doom.

2 02 2011
Marguerite

Hi Angge! Thanks for the advice! I’ll make sure to stock up before heading back to that hellhole. šŸ˜‰

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