Sooooooo. I recently went to get a full wax. I know there is a proper term for it but I’m not quite sure what it is. I suspect it may require the use of the word vagina. Which is a word we are all acquainted with but are generally woe to use. So when I called to book the wax I just said full wax and prayed to the Gods of beauty that the lady would know what I was talking about.
Like the word vagina, waxing is in and of itself is inherently embarrassing. It shouldn’t be. I know this. I have read, understood and practiced enough feminism in my life to get that words have been used as instruments against us to give us a feeling of shame where this is non etcetera etcetera. But we are alive. The world is real and waxes are embarrassing particularly because they are so closely related to vaginas. Which is of course why this is an anonymous article. Because. Vaginas.
That said, after years of gentle coaxing from a friend of mine who is wise in the ways of all thing beauty, I decided to take the plunge.
I got to the salon on time and well scrubbed. I mean I was clean. I smelled like a BodyShop. The whole shop. Just as one doesn’t go to the dentist without vigorously brushing their teeth as close the appointment as possible one also shouldn’t just mosey into a wax after a day in the office and an hour at the gym I reckon. So I arrived ever so fresh and so clean.
The salon lady first waxed my eyebrows a practice that I both comfortable and familiar with. Because eyebrows are NOT vaginas. Then it got real. It was time to strip down.
The lady asked me to pull up my dress and take off my panties in a manner similar to the way one would ask someone to pass them a remote control.
I was gripped by fear. Whoa. Wait. This is all happening too fast. I don’t know this person. Why am I doing this? It felt like an unfortunate one night stand without the benefits of copious amounts of alcohol to boost the confidence. And much like during said one night stand, I proceeded to strip despite my reservations.
Much to my surprise once I was semi naked my mood changed. I relaxed. The lady, a consummate professional I might add, and I got to talking about the land question. She isn’t remotely interested in farming. I want the land back though admittedly nor am I. I just want to sell it and buy a house, pay school fees, you know. I digress. Yes, I had one eye on the wooden stick which was being swirled in hot wax, but hey, the topic was interesting. She took the wax and placed it on my vagina at which point I held my breath. Then boom. The first strip had been taken. And it didn’t really hurt. I mean pain is of course relative but given that I have endured labor, migraines, tonsillitis and at least two broken hearts this wasn’t that painful. At all.
The lady said that the first strip is the most painful. She went into great detail about different kinds of hair and what hurts the most and white peoples hair versus black peoples and curly versus straight. I nodded my head though truth be told I wasn’t really listening. Firstly because that is more information than I ever wanted to know about pubic hair but more importantly because I was keeping one eye on the was stick she was using with great aplomb.
The wax proceeded. The tingly pain would briefly come in spurts, momentarily interrupting our conversation about how Bey is the greatest entertainer of all time. She is not of course. But given that the lady was clearly a member of the beehive and was wielding a stick drenched in hot wax just inches away from my vagina I politely agreed.
And that was that. We were finished. It was over. Or so I thought.
“There! Almost done! Now get on all fours!” Said the lady.
That’s where I drew the line. When I said full wax I never meant that full. Never that full. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. No. No. No. I didn’t. All fours? Yeah. NO.
I walked out of that salon with a pep in my step. What a confidence booster. I felt silky and smooth and sexy. I am only one week into post wax life and I can without a shadow of a doubt say it was worth every ounce of the awkwardness. I bought the sexiest lingerie I have ever owned. Because smooth vagina guys. I have been rocking the cutest outfits. Because. Smooth vagina. I have done other things that need not be put in print (anonymous or not!) to the mutual benefit of a man who too shall not be named. Because smooth vagina.
Smooth vaginas are the future. They are. So if you haven’t done it, do it. If you have, congratulations. Keep up the good work.