Finals are over.
Let's celebrate with a fun story from last weekend.
And it may or may not be concerning my female anatomy.
(Seriously, if you don't want to hear about it. Do. not. read. it.)
So, it had been a while since my last waxing escapade. Like, seriously a long time. The wookie jokes from my husband dearest were getting rather irritating - so I finally decided to buck up and make another appointment for that Saturday to get a little downtown landscaping done - because admittedly, it was getting a little gnarly down there. The waxing lady texted me a couple hours later and asked if I could switch my appointment to a little later, and that she'd wax my armpits for free for having to change the appointment - I let her know that I doubt there was enough hair on my armpits to wax, but that I'd let her do my eyebrows. YES. Free stuff. (Sidenote: I really don't understand people that wax their pits - they take literally like 2 seconds to shave?)
Courtesy of Google Images
Saturday rolls around and I ask Shawn if he wants to come with me - mostly because I wanted him to witness the tear-inducing pain that is bikini waxing - which I could later use as leverage when the wookie jokes started to resurface. Some might think that's awkward. (Actually, some of our friends, after recounting this particular experience, were absolutely floored that Shawn witnessed the entire thing.) But, really now - there's not much of me that my husband hasn't seen. So I don't really see the issue.
Anyways, we show up and the waxing lady is as chipper as ever, which is mildly surprising to me, because I'm just about positive I couldn't be cheerleader chipper after handling a double digit amount of vaginas and other hairy body parts. Just saying. She sees Shawn and asks me if I want to face the other direction, to which I give her a puzzled look and reply, "I'm sure he's seen all there is to see down there, and if he sees something new, I've already given him permission to shoot it." She then instructs me to "Drop your drawers, honey!" And after she leaves the room I throw my pants and undies to Shawn while mumbling under my breath how much I hate when girls call me by pet names. Maybe she felt like she could though, since you know, we've shared some fairly intimate moments together there on the waxing table.
I immediately start sweating bullets when she walks back in, because there's just something about the anticipation of piping hot wax on my goods that gives me a little bit of anxiety. Shawn is instantly entranced when the waxing lady instructed me to "frog" my leg and spread wax all over. She continued to do her thing - and Shawn just sat there, looking a little bit nervous that she was going to rip my entire vagina off.
This time was different than the others, though. It hurt way more than it usually did. I cursed a little bit more than I normally do - and at one point I sat up and literally screamed out in agonizing pain. Usually she compliments me on how well I handle myself, but I received no such comfort this time. Instead she told my husband and I of stories about how she went to her hometown to see an old friend working as a stripper. Or the time she was waxing another ladies goods and as she pulled the strip of pubic hair off, it landed on and stuck to her bare arm. Clearly, a glamorous job she's got there. After telling me a story about a couple that came in to get a "his and hers" wax, I noticed that she was still waxing, when normally she'd be done by now. And that's when I felt her going a couple strips farther than she had in the past. Nervously I asked, "So um, we're doing the bikini that I had scheduled.... right?" She immediately stopped, and looked at me like a dear looks into oncoming traffic. I cursed in my mind. She cursed out loud. And Shawn just sat there, looking as confused as ever.
She had given me a Brazilian. Good holy Batman, she had given me a Brazilian.
After cursing a few more times, and apologizing profusely, she announced that I was going to be "bare as a baby." I almost cried. But instead of bitching her out, I shot evil darts at my husband - who knew I had no intention of ever getting a Brazilian - yet said nothing as she continued to rip every last pubic hair out of my lady. She was pretty much at the point of no return, and had to finish up what she had started. And let me tell you Internet, I never want hot wax in those creases ever. again.
She then had me flip to my side, so she could perform the infamous butt crack wax. And I gotta be honest - that was a little embarrassing to have my husband there. I don't go around spreading my butt cheeks for even him to see. No one should have to see that. Ever. But nevertheless, I had the death grip on my cheek to keep from sealing my ass shut while simultaneously commanding Shawn to look away, or die.
She finally finished downstairs - and moved to my eyebrows. I cracked all sorts of jokes about her doing a Brazilian on my face - my passive aggressive way of letting her know how depressed I was about my downstairs. Luckily, she did a lovely job on the eyebrows (she does a lovely job on everything else too, just not exactly what I had ordered.)
She finally finished, and continued apologizing until she left the room for me to get dressed again. I stood up, completely terrified of what I was going to see in the mirror. And when I finally got the nerve to look, I was horrified. It was gone. Every single last pubic hair that I've been growing since the delicate age of 12, gone. I looked at my husband for approval, and he nodded his head and smiled. How could he be smiling?! I looked like a seven year old. He added, "At least you have something to blog about now!" Great. Just great.
Yeah, it was like that. (By the way, when I watched this episode, I laughed for about 15 minutes straight after this classy one liner from Maw Maw.)
Needless to say I was near tears. She came back in, still apologizing. I paid her, and we were off. I whined the entire way home about my hairless crotch. (I'm running out of appropriate terms for 'vagina' here.) Shawn, bless his heart, assured me that I didn't look like a pre-pubescent child - and that my vagina didn't look like an alien. (Seriously. And just when I thought women were the cuter gender.)
Internet, do you get Brazilian waxes? If so, why? Because the only differences I notice is that my farts are louder, and I pee all over my butt cheeks now. Oh, and have I mention how ridiculous it looks? Call me old-fashioned, but I like a little somethin somethin down there - obviously I don't need a full blown jungle - but, you know.
Anyways - I think I'm just going to stop there.
Sometimes I think I should put the Content Warning on my blog.
You know, just in case.
Raise your hand if you miss the Toby posts.
Happy Weekend/Holidays/No more finals, Internet.