Waxing or Waning

A little small talk between two women who barely know each other helps to fill the awkward silence and makes the time pass more quickly.

Nadia begins the conversation. "So, my folks came to visit me this weekend."
"Oh, that's nice," I respond. "Do they come oft...Yeowwch!!!!"

I'm rendered speechless with pain and unable to finish my thought. Nadia doesn't seem to notice as she applies warm wax to the next affected patch. This brief respite before the next wave gives me time to observe the sensitive position of my body. I lay on the esthetician's table dressed in my blouse and paper panties. My legs are slightly apart with one leg bent so that its foot is perched on the opposite leg's knee.

But before I can feel a twinge of embarrassment, I'm brought back to the moment. I hear the noise as Nadia rips the hardened wax off my skin. "Oh, God. This hurts!" I think to myself, but utter not a word.

Welcome to the world of bikini waxing.

I only reluctantly joined the ranks of bikini waxers a few years back just before an extended beach trip. For years, I shaved or applied creams in an effort to remove the hair, which to me looked like scraggily brush before the forest. With a razor or cream, the hair came off to be sure, but nasty little bumps cropped up in its place. What is worse--unwanted hair or razor burn? They both seemed equally unsightly.

Then one day, my friend Camille let me in on her little secret. I was shocked to learn that she was one of those women.

"What's the big deal," laughed Camille. "There's no rash and it lasts for a month!"
Not yet convinced, I probed further, "But doesn't it hurt?"
"Well, let me put it to you this way," Camille said with a smile. "It's less painful that child birth."

After our conversation, I debated for weeks when I finally gave in to my vanity and reasoned if Camille could stand the pain and humiliation, so could I. I'd regularly had my eyebrows waxed. I'd even endured electrolysis on my chin. Really, how bad could it possibly be?

I walked into the esthetician's office a virgin to the entire process, feeling more nervous than before my first gynecological exam. And only when Nadia emerged from behind the curtain did I remember that I had worn my favorite pair of thongs-- the ones with FLIRTY scrolled in the front. "Oh, great. What sort of woman was Nadia going to think I was," I worried. My panic subsided when Nadia offered me the disposable panties and then stepped away to give me a moment. However even a simple action, one that I'd repeated in the privacy of my own home at least every morning, wasn't working for me this day. I broke the flimsy elastic of the panty when I pulled it over my hips. Then, it happened again. Nadia kept coming in to the room anticipating that I had assumed the proper position. But each time, being more red-faced than before, I asked Nadia for a new pair of panties. Finally on the fourth try, I managed to get the panties on without breakage. I gingerly made my way to the tiny cot where I laid and listened to the sounds of birds changing and soft music by Yanni. It was going to take more than the esthetician's version of MUISAC to make me relax.

Nadia finally stepped in for good and it was only then that I learned of the different degrees of waxing, Brazillian being the most complete. "Leave it to the Brazilians,"I thought. I'd met this Brazilian woman once, so this waxing thing didn't surprise me at all.

"So, what do you want?" Nadia asked, expecting an answer based on knowledge of the subject.
"Uh..." I hadn't a clue.

Nadia decided that we would go as long as I could stand the pain.

Ten minutes later I emerged I virgin no longer, though my nether region resembled something like Adolf Hitler. I just needed to draw in the eyes and the nose. I hadn't been able to complete the job. Bikini waxing had just been too painful. I thought of the Brazilian woman and resented her even more.

Happily though, it came as a surprise that once the waxing was over, the pain ended as well. And, my friend Camille had been correct. There were no embarrassing bumps. I wore my bathing suit with more confidence than I had ever known. Suddenly it seemed that the results were well worth the pain and money.

But there were other advantages to bikini waxing that I had not considered. Men, it seems, loved the idea and the results. I discovered this fact innocently enough just after my first waxing. I met James, a close friend, for lunch. Although I did not plan to discuss my waxing experience with him, but the subject inevitably came up.

"Did you go Brazilian?" he asked with more than the usual curiosity.

He knew the terminology without ever having to experience it! This hardly seemed fair. It was as if he had stumbled onto this secret code that should be reserved for women only. However, the glean in his eye told me that it was not a secret password that he had discovered.

"Not quite, but almost." I curtly replied. I decided to spare him the Hitler jokes, thinking it best to move on to another topic.

It wasn't just James who seemed to appreciate this sort of grooming. Men in my life have taught me that knowledge of bikini waxing is common place. And, men's preferences vary as much as their preferences on everything else female. I've also learned that, in at least this case, what is good for the geese is good for the gander. Men have gotten into the barer is better spirit.

These days I don't hesitate to head for a waxing. I just pop a few Tylenol before I go. And when my friends ask, I don't hesitate to cheer them on to their local esthetician. Dare to go bare. Bare to be different! But, no Adolph Hitler, please.