Sorry Mum, sorry Dad.. I have a feeling this post won’t make it into the family newsletter. But it just had to be done. For those of you wondering, no, the title of this post doesn’t mark my venture into travel blogging and Brazilian culture (or Brazilian men for that matter). Yep, I went there, to that topic we all cringe over and solemnly swear to only discuss at mojito fuelled girls nights…this post is about bearing all and getting up close and personal with a stranger and a hot pot of wax targeted right at your special area – lady garden – vajayjay or whatever you choose to call her.
As one of the most prudish people out there, the very concept of writing this post hurt me more than the wax itself. Yet, for some reason, i’ve chosen to write this post in the most public place ever; Starbucks. And even as I write this I am half self consciously looking over my shoulder, shielding my laptop screen, and half absolutely pissing myself at the hilarity of all this. But let me give you some context. About a month ago, I was convinced that I was the only girl left in my age range who was still shying away from taking the issue of lower body grooming out of their own hands, and into the hands of a professional. Embarrassed at my childishness, I just woke up one day and booked myself in for a Brazilian – my first EVER Brazilian.
Years of fear about various aspects of this; from the pain, to a stranger’s judgement on my noonie, suddenly subsided and I fell into a state of semi consciousness where I just avoided all wax related thoughts and marched into that salon before I could change my mind. What followed was a truly enlightening experience…
The therapist was literally my idea of wonder woman – she had an absolutely no nonsense attitude and just got straight down to business. Before I knew it she was spreading hot wax all over the aforementioned area. There was literally no time for cold feet! There was absolutely no awkwardness whatsoever. I mean she must have seen gazillions of vajayjays’s! I’d heard rumours of having to get onto all fours butt naked, but it was nothing like that. I spent most of it flat on my back with my heels together and the second part hugging my knees. I thought she would go for some of the less sensitive areas first; the bikini line for example. But instead the part I was most apprehensive about; the lips (sorry guys, there is not easy way to say that!), were half done within the first 5 minutes of my wax!
I’ll be brutally honest – that part hurt like a B*#tch! And I mean a b*#tch with PMS, pre-coffee on a Monday morning. Yeah…it super hurt. But, it was over in a matter of seconds. The rest of the wax was actually way less painful than I had anticipated – no worse than waxing your legs. And I have a very low pain threshold! The fact that it was all over in about 25 minutes really helped too.
I’d heard a lot about tonnes of pain and soreness after the wax & had been expecting to have to go commando after my wax to let the poor area recover. But actually, I was totally fine. I felt literally zero pain afterwards! And ommmmmg, the after feeling. I literally headed home feeling like a m*thafrickin’ boss. The smooth, perfectly completed result was, in my eyes, 100000% worth the pain! I was just kicking myself for not doing it years ago.
Aside from the amazingly aesthetically pleasing finish that had me wanting to take a coochie selfie (I am absolutely kidding – who do you think I am?!), there was a really strange sense of empowerment that came as a by-product. I felt that if I could overcome something that has a rep for being sooo scary, I could do anything from pop out some kids tomorrow, to climb mount Everest, or even write this post…
During a girls night, a week on from my first brazillian I proudly told my besties that I had ‘finally grown a pair and had the whole enchilada (or should I say taco..?) waxed’. I was expecting four impressed faces with a side of a few ‘well it took you long enoughs’. Instead, I was met with four shocked expressions from my friends who all, almost in unison, started wincing and crossing their legs in imagined pain. I couldn’t believe that I; Leela ‘Chicken Shit’ Jasmine, was apparently the brave one to first cross over to the
dark smooth side.
So that was how I came to be writing this post, sat in between two business men in suits, trying to shield the word ‘coochie’ from their view. My friends had so many questions about the whole experience and I know I had so many before my wax, that I thought someone should explain what it’s really like. So if you’re a 20 something gal who’s yet to take the plunge, there’s hope for you yet – If I can do it , anyone can.
I had my wax at Rock Chick Beauty in London Waterloo & would highly recommend it to any sh*t scared wax virgins. This post is in no way sponsored by anything other than my now silky smooth noonie.