Deconstructing Hairy

I wrote the sketch outline of this shortly after my 30th birthday. This Easter, I felt compelled to flesh it out and finish it. Like a little Easter Egg of too much Destiny! information. Enjoy…

I’ll try pretty much anything once. I’ve bungee jumped. I’ve backpacked Europe by myself. I’ve whored myself out to be in a music video… So when a casual conversation with some members of the opposite sex led to the revelation that a significant percentage of dudes subscribe to the theory that “bare is beautiful,” it got me thinking.

NB: Anyone that has anything closely resembling decency should probably stop right here. Grandma, that means you.

Now let me preface this by saying that I think “maintenance” should be a topic in all health classes in high school. I had no idea that there were so many options! Airfields, landing strips, and now vag-azzling? It can be incredibly overwhelming–especially since my mom pretty much handed me a razor when I turned 16 and said “shave your bikini line and leave the rest alone.” It wasn’t until college that I realized the standard was to at least trim things up a bit.

So there I lived, in my twenty-something blissful world of keeping things neat and tidy with my scissors and razor. And then my college roommate, Karri, took the plunge and got a landing strip. Only then did it enter my consciousness that waxing wasn’t just for porn stars…after all my BFF was now sporting a sassy do down below. Now, while very little is off limits for this chick, if it involves pain, I’m out before the words “it’s not that bad, trust me” even cross your lips. I HATE getting my eyebrows done. And the idea of dripping hot wax ripping out my red curtain…I shuddered at the thought. But then I kept hearing the “bare is beautiful” line and what can I say…it was almost a dare!!!  I had to see what the fuss was all about.

One day, in a show of defiance while flipping the bird at my impending 30th birthday, I made an appointment at the spa for a bikini wax. I arrived and checked in, confidently informing the receptionist that I was expected for a waxing appointment. She introduced me to my technician. Sweet Kara–I’ll never forget my first. As we walked back to the room, Kara asked me if I’ve ever had a bikini wax before. Nope, I shook my head. She said, “Oh, it’s easy,” and I felt a bit of relief. “You can do it bare, right?” I asked. She stopped for a second. “Wait. You’ve never had a bikini wax.” I shook my head again. “And you want to go bare…you want a Brazilian…no hair anywhere. Right?” Yep, I nodded. Her eyes widened and she gave me a bemused smile, “Brave girl.” Ha. Now if that wasn’t a challenge, I don’t know what was!

So in I went, stripped from my waist down and propped myself up on the table. We started easy…leg creases first, working our way inward. Not excruciating, right around the same speed as my eyebrows. As we got closer…and closer…with each rip I was seriously wishing I had a lemon drop (or four!) to shoot. Kara was directing me where to pull to make the skin taut so it didn’t hurt as much (um. yeah. right.), and let me just tell you that my gynecologist does not know me that well!!  I mean seriously–I’ve explored–I’m comfortable with my own anatomy, but I did not realize HOW MUCH FREAKIN’ HAIR there is down there.

Now, I’m going to get seriously graphic here, so beware. Kara drew my legs up like a frog, with my hands perfectly placed spreading myself apart so she could get the top intersection where the hair grows crazy and wacky. (Girls, you’ll get this. Guys, if you’ve explored–and you should have–you’ll get this too.) She warned me it would take two pulls, but I knew I was in trouble the fourth time she applied the wax. “Hmm…” she said. “You’re one of those clients…your hair grows in about ten directions here, so I’m going to have to use the hard wax.” At this point I was committed to finishing the project, and I made a mental note to tell my friends to fuck themselves. But I gave her the go ahead anyway, since I wasn’t looking to set a new trend with a mohawk.

Once she applied the hard wax, it felt verrry warm. It made its way dangerously close to my crown jewel (I told you I was gonna get graphic) but it was almost relaxing for the 2.5 seconds it took to harden. Riiippp. GODDAMN!  I didn’t know whether to come or cry!!!!

Finally, Kara had me lie on my side, pull my knee into my chest, and straighten my other leg. So I had one hand pulling my knee as far as it would go and the other gripping my butt cheek for dear life. She put on the wax and said in all seriousness, “Now whatever you do…DON’T LET GO!!” I gritted my teeth and prayed my ass cheeks wouldn’t get glued together causing an unfortunate bathroom situation for the foreseeable future. The backside was almost sweet relief compared to the clit bit… All told it took 45 minutes, but I was bare…or as bare as my wacky hair growth pattern will allow.

Once the swelling went down, I had to check myself out. When I got home, I perched myself on the bathtub, and checked out every possible angle. I went through all the normal stages of psychological deconstruction…(Is that what it’s supposed to look like? What if all that hair has been covering up the fact that I’ve got a really ugly va-jay-jay? Why the hell do we even get hair on our butt?…) but after walking around with my new look, I quite liked it. It had a clean and fresh feeling, even if it did leave me a bit more exposed (which had the unfortunate side effect of keeping me in a permanent state of arousal until I got used to the exposure.) As for beautiful? Well, beauty, my friends, is certainly in the eye of the beholder. This girl prefers the sausage to the taco.

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