I think we need some female inventors out there. Or maybe just some really good PR ladies who can convince men to start doing all the stupid shit us women do to
impress them make ourselves feel good. I just returned from my 2nd brazilian wax and although it went much better than the first (as in no less clenching…oh the clenching), I have to question my sanity a tad. Why on EARTH am I letting this woman near my vajay-ha with a stick full of hot goop?
I got my first Brazilian as prep for my wedding (night) and honeymoon…to eliminate the need for shaving in Mexico (which actually I could have used because those showers – yes plural – were just too damn awesome). Almost a month to the minute after my first wax down under, I realized I wanted (using this term loosely here) another. Maybe it’s something like child birth (not that I’d know?)…you forget the pain once you have the awesome product of it in front of you. (And yes I totally just likened your kid to my smooth va-gine. Sorry.) All I know is that if my husband notices the benefits of waxing and approves this
transactions appointments, they must be doing something right. If you’re in the North Jersey area, I highly recommend Jasmine at the European Wax Center in Denville. She is much less sadistic than that bitch I had the first time who took twice as long and used twice as much wax (probably this was more because it was my FIRST wax and not because of she-who-must-not-be-named, but you come talk to me after you can’t touch your hoody-hoo for 48 hours thanks to that purple goop and see what you think then). Of course it did take half of my office to convince me to get my (now waxed) ass out the door and over to the salon so it’s definitely understandable if what you take from this post is “this chick is crazy” rather than “what is the number to that salon…” Either way, it may not hurt (okay, it will DEFINITELTY hurt) to try it the next time you go away or have a pool party, which is semi-cruel after age 18 or for non-Victoria’s Secret models. Especially after an all-inclusive (read: all the food ever) honeymoon. But that’s a whole ‘nother post.
Come at me, bro…in BRAZIL