Yesterday I got waxed for the first time in almost four months. Actually, I did sugaring, which is a slightly less painful, more natural type of hair removal, but the premise of the procedure was still the same — hair was being ripped from the most sensitive area of my body without abandon: my vagina.
As I lay on the esthetician table with my legs in a butterfly doing the opposite of what would make the process run smoothly — sweating — I found my mind wandering, mostly pondering the same questions with every tug of hair, anticipation of pain, and final snatch. When I was done, I texted a couple friends to see if they were still keeping up appearances between their legs, and that’s when I realized we all pretty much ask the same questions in the midst of a Brazilian.
- Why am I doing this? I literally stared up at the ceiling, doing my best to pull my vagina taut, while going through an existential crisis. Who am I? Am I a woman who has to keep a bare va-jay-jay? Is there more to life than hairless vaginas? Can God hear me when I ask him to give me peace while voluntarily undergoing this torture?
- Who came up with this? Like fo’real, who was the first person to let someone rip the hair off their vagina? And whose idea was it? If it was a man in 17th century Europe I’m going to be pissed. FYI, my research is ongoing.
- Is anyone even going to see this? You know, besides me?
- And will they appreciate it? If a man even says anything along the lines of “why don’t you have any hair down there?” after what I just went through I will smooth go off.
- Why did I wait so long? See prior question about whether anyone else was going to see it as part of the explanation for this question. But the other reason I asked is because, at some point, when you wait so long to be waxed, it’s pretty much like your first time all over again when you finally go back — i.e. painful AF. But when I kept up with my monthly appointment, I was in and out of that waxing room in 15 minutes without a sweat, literally.
I genuinely like the look and feel of my nether regions when hairless, and with summer — and my summer vacations — upon us I figured it was time to get back into practice. But I’d be lying if I said while laying on that table I didn’t think about just saying eff it and having a Miranda “Sex & The City” movie situation. You know the one where she puts on a bathing suit and Samantha asks her, “Geez, honey, wax much?” In the midst of my ordeal yesterday when the answer to that question was clearly no, being asked that seemed much better than the things I was asking myself.
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