A normal Brazilian wax covers (well, uncovers) the so-called “bikini” area. You know. The hoo-hah zone. The procedure apparently involves leaving a “landing strip” leading to the area in question, but I’m going to opt out of that if at all possible. I am accustomed to being completely bare, and prefer to stay that way.
I have decided that it’s not worth it to only wax the unmentionables. I’m going to have my legs done, too. It’s only fair. I hate shaving. How annoying would it be to have to shave one place and wax another? (My underarms are still under debate.)
In order to have one’s unwanted hair ripped off, one must first allow one’s unwanted hair to grow.
I have been, and believe me, it isn’t pretty.
My hair isn’t uberlong. It’s not Planet of the Apes over here. But it’s longer than I’d like. I have been very tempted to just shave it already for days now, and I hate shaving. But in the interest of science and the blog post I’m going to write about this experience and my sex life (paradoxically), I haven’t given in. I’ve let it grow.
And I’m just going to keep letting it grow, because I have to wait until either 1) I get paid for one of my freelance projects, which will hopefully happen tomorrow but you never know; or 2) Sean gets paid, which will be at the end of the month. In the meantime, I’ve been psyching myself up for and educating myself about the experience.
For example, I’ve read that a loofah may be employed to ward off the bane of my existence, the ingrown hair. Yesterday, at something like 11 at night, I slunk into the Evans Super Wal-Mart (wearing shorts–my hairy legs exposed–the horror!) and nicked one. After using it this morning, I have to say that I really have no idea why people think loofahs are evil. It was such a great, invigorating feeling to scrub myself with it. Yes, even you-know-where. Sheesh, people are such wussies!
(I may feel differently when my skin is red and raw from waxing, but for now…wussies!)
Read the other chapters in the Brazilian Saga! (They’re high in fiber.)