I was not planning on writing about my first bikini wax.
But ladies – What the hell is wrong with you?!
Or maybe I should be yelling at the men. Or the Brazilians. Who’s idea was this anyway? I should google that.
On a whim, I scheduled a bikini wax before my Florida trip. I thought it would be nice not to have to worry about shaving. My sister highly recommended that I request the woman that does her bikini waxes.
The more my bikini area grew in preparation for Saturday, the more nervous I got about someone ripping my course Mexican hairs out with wax. I brought up my upcoming bikini wax to every woman I know. I found out that I am the only one not waxing. I also found out, “the first is the worst.”
Oh, it will hurt. But this girl is fast. You will be done in 10 minutes. Use their lotions they give you afterwards. That will help. Your first time will be the worst.
Yeah, I’ve had one. It hurt really bad. But my pain tolerance is very low. You should be ok. I’ve heard the first is the worst. But I’ve only had one.
I’m not going to lie, the first time will hurt. But it gets better after that and you’ll love it. I’m getting one the same day you are!
I mean it’s not fun. But it’s so worth it. The first is the worst. I’ll be getting one on that day too! Guess I’ll have a bloody mary that morning.
I text my sister in the parking lot of the wax place.
Sister: Hahaha…this will totally be blog worthy.
Me: WHAT?! NO! Don’t say that!
I walk inside. I am ushered into a room by a gorgeous woman.
Hi Julie. I’m Holly. So you want a brazilian today?
Yes. It’s my first time. I’m scared!
The first is the worst. Take off everything from waist down and lay on the table with your feet together, butterfly style.
Oh. Ok then. Hello! No towel or sheet or anything.
I hop up on the table and lay as instructed.
Ok. I won’t be able to get everything because there is a cycle that hair comes in. I should be able to make you look good though. After your next appointment in about 3 to 4 weeks, you should be caught up.
Oh, ok. That will be fine. I’m going to Florida on Monday. I just don’t want to have to shave. My sister recommended this place to me. She said you’re good.
I thought you looked familiar! But then I saw you are a first time customer and got confused.
Oh…yeah I guess we look alike.
Wait, what. I hope she’s talking about our face.
I have two little girls.
Really? How old?
7 and 4.
Are they going to Florida too?
She dumps baby powder all over me. She starts to smooth out warm wax.
I should have said I gave birth vaginally to explain myself. Ha! I crack myself up.
What part of Florida are you going to?
Um…the Keys. My husband is from South Florida. We have friends down there …
She rips again.
NO! Oh God. Help me. I can’t talk.
That is awesome to have friends down there. I’m so jealous!
Oh God. I’m bleeding. I’m bleeding all over the table. I need to pee.
Did I just pee? Which way is up? What?
Sorry, those were sensitive ones. Those are over.
My hands were covered in sweat.
I’ll do a couple clean up ones. They won’t hurt as bad. Promise.
I’ll just shave. I’ll shave.
Am I in labor? I’m peeing on the table.
Ok, now for the butt strips. These are easy.
Pull your knees up to your chest.
My arms were shaking while trying to hold my legs up. I feel warm wax applied.
I just want to be a man. I think I’m going to cry.
Why am I a woman?
Why am I Mexican?
I’ll tweeze what I can of the smaller hairs. Those will come out nicely in 3 weeks. You’ll look good for Florida.
I feel dots of fire.
All done! You look good. I’m going to rub some of our lotion to help with the redness. And I’ll give you some samples to take home. Once you get dressed I’ll walk you out.
I pay and in my moment of pain-stricken horror, I make an appointment for 3 weeks later. The receptionist promised me it wouldn’t be as bad next time. I waddle to my car and text my sister:
I called Scott in the car because I had to let him know it’s all his fault. I made it clear that I hated all men and I was about to throw up. Scott laughed. I could tell from his laugh that he didn’t know whether I was really mad or joking. I hung up on Scott for laughing and tried to concentrate on driving home. They should really tell first-timers that they need a ride. I could still feel the rips all over – radiating. I started to cry.
I walked in our house. Scott saw me and went silent. He had two Tylenols ready for me with water. He started texting our friend, Devon. He started giggling again.
I sent a single picture text to every woman I know who has had a bikini wax:
I got LOLs and “the first is the worst” texted right back to me.
I can only hope in 3 weeks they are right. At least I was warned.
** I will not be writing a Monday post this week. I will be in Florida, tossing my razor into the ocean – maybe it will float its way to Brazil.