Wax On, Wax Off

27 Jun

Finding your Vaginal Stylist is sort of like dating.  You may need to expose yourself to a FEW, before you find THE ONE.

The Backstory: About 10 years ago, I gave up my razor and was talked into trying out the world of waxing.  With no experience, I jumped right in to the hard core world of the Brazillian bitches known as The J Sisters.  It was Valentine’s day and I was feeling sexy and romantic with my then boyfriend of 3 months.  I thought as part of my gift (what do you really give a guy for Valentines day – other than good sex after only three months), I would take the plunge.  I ventured out of work a little early that evening and headed over.  The waiting room was overflowing with ladies all having similar plans for their vag’s that night.  The wait went on forever.  I tried to read the faces of the women exiting the rooms but mostly they were straight faced or suffering from shock as I would later learn.  Finally it was my turn.  I was sweating with fear.  My J Sister, whom I later learned was not really a sister but a cousins cousin of some sort, did not smile, did not make small talk and ushered me into a tiny room with a table.  I already felt betrayed.  In her thick accent she asked ‘vhat du you vhant? Ju Vhant me to tak it all ovf?’.  Having grown up in a house with a British mother, I have a good ear for understanding people’s thick accents so I simply replied ‘yes please’.

She told me to get up on the table and put both legs staight up in the air – jesus, good thing I work out.  She began her procedure of applying the hot wax.  Without any sort of warning, she affixed a strip of paper on top of the wax and ripped off what felt like the entire left side of my lower body.  Fuuuucccckkkkkk!!!!!  was the only thing I could manage to get out of my mouth.  At that moment, I sat up and told her I didn’t need the other side done and that my boyfriend would be happy either way.  She coaxed me into staying and having her finish the job.  She said she would be more gentle and didn’t realize I was of virgin status.  After feeling like I’d been torn to pieces, I left the building vaginally violated and robbed of $65.  A tip was out of the fucking question.

After a hot shower and lots of lotion,  I met my boyfriend for our romantic Valentines day dinner, unsure how any action would be taking place down there later that night.  Hot and Throbbing and not in a good way.  While waiting for our table, he presented me with the gift he had bought me for the occasion – awwhhh so sweet of him, I thought.  What do you know, a 10 pack of bikini waxes from the fucking J Sisters.  I almost fainted.  WTH!

My next experience was much more pleasant.  I discovered a woman named Natasha.  She was a gem.  Not only does she take her time and is very personable but she teaches you a breathing technique that makes the entire experience more palatable.   I spent years with her until she became geographically undesirable.  During her relocation, I also relocated to Long Island and felt the need to find a local establishment.  I tried my luck at a few places – high end (Estee Lauder), low end (some freaky Russian woman at the Wharf), nail salons with added services (they should stick to nails).  Bikini Waxing on Long Island was sadly not a skill many people had.  The search continued.

I was close to picking the razor back up and then it happened.  I hired girls in their 20’s that knew much more than I did.  Some genius had invented a thicker, herbal, organic wax that didn’t pull hair and skin off at the same time.  And so became my new vaginal discovery – UniK Wax.  Trust me, your V’jayjay will thank me.  http://www.unikwax.com/  (This in not a paid advertisement in any way – just sharing some WTHayley-Wisdom).


P.S.  Every time I look at the picture above, I crack up because it looks like little stick figures with weird heads and the bottom one – headless.

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