“Brazilian wax. Sounds sexy. How painful could it possibly be?” Oh what a fool. What a damned sorry fool I was. Brazilians are out their fucking minds. I stopped in at my work to pick up my check, say hi to Danielle and pick up a few other things. I’d been considering waxing my lady business for some time at that point. The main attraction being a smooth alcove that lasts longer than shaving. So I buy the Brazilian wax, foregoing the anesthetic numbing spray, which was a huge mistake. Possibly the biggest of my life. I can never un-remember the pain. Right when I get home I pop the jar of wax into the microwave and open the package of cloth strips. I was just a naïve young girl then. Not a care in the world, simply looking foreword to a hairless honey pot. I had no idea. I got a little twinge of fear upon smoothing the wax, almost too hot, onto the target zone. “Wow. That is a pretty sensitive area. Um…huh...” Kinda scary. But I put the strip on, took a nervous breath, bit my lip and tore that son of a bitch right off. The following sound that ensued was not an exclamation of surprise. It wasn’t just an acknowledgement of discomfort. It wasn’t like, “Damn that fucking hurts.” More like, “My god. What have I done?” It was a full-blown uncontrolled scream of pain, and a cry of terror that I might not have my beloved bikini biscuit anymore. I had to literally (in the most literal sense of the word) brace myself on the counter and recollect my thoughts. Oh. My.God. As shockingly excruciating and painful as it was, I repeated this process, step for step, about seven times, hoping against hope each time that it would get less painful. It didn’t. It also didn’t in any way make my panty hamster look more attractive. You know how a dog will chew on its ass until it gets all bloody and shiny, with a few angry red bald spots? Yeah. Not many people see that and go “Damn, I have GOT to stick my dick in that!” Except for people like Sanders, and do I really need to say any more there? But I’m thinking that this product was definitely intended for the more hearty, callused salmon canyon, and not my delicate little flower. I know now. For those caring souls out there who would like to know, my whisker box will get a little better every day, but the mental scarring remains. So if I could ask you, please take a moment of silence and bow your head in remembrance of this day. Never again.
-Alex
-Alex
