Take it all off

Now that summer has officially arrived and I live close enough to the beach to go regularly, I decided it was finally time to submit myself to the female maintenance nightmare that is the bikini wax. I've been waxing my eyebrows for years and although it's not an altogether pleasant experience, having clean brows has always been worth the discomfort. So I got a spa recommendation from my roommate Mariellen and booked an appointment.

Lest you think I am going to share with you the graphic details of what a tiny, overly cheerful, and completely sadistic vietnamese wax professional did to me yesterday, let me put your fears to rest. I am not going to talk about the waxing itself, instead, I would rather discuss how much fun women seem to have talking about waxing. Starting with Mariellen as soon as I asked for the salon's phone number (which she has on speed dial I might add), this week has been all about the waxing. All you have to do is say, "I'm getting my first bikini wax on Saturday," and suddenly girls you've hardly said a word to are describing in detail their grooming routine for the most intimate body part. It's absolutely amazing. We love it. I emailed my most experienced friend to get some pre-wax advice and she came back with six paragraphs worth of tips. Women at work told me stories, other friends offered up suggestions. The night before I asked Mariellen a couple of final questions and she finally got so frustrated trying to figure how to describe things that she said, "whatever, I'll just show you." And she did.

The day finally came and yes, it hurt. It hurt alot. Taking off my pants and laying half naked on a table in front of stranger didn't phase me one bit. Having hair ripped out of the most sensitive part of my body by the roots, however, almost made me pass out. But once the pain was over, I couldn't WAIT to start making phone calls. First to Kersten to tell her thank her for her words of wisdom, then to Corey to give her a hard time for leaving out the part where it hurts so bad you could bite through a steel rod, to my sister who wanted to know exactly how the process went. Then I got home where Mariellen demanded to see how much I had taken off (she was impressed, apparently I was braver than I thought). I called Emily to give her the news since she one of my favorite Emily quotes is, "I'm so glad you asked me that because I can talk about waxing for days!" I traded a few posts back and forth on a web forum with some other women about the pros and cons of brazilian waxing. I went to a birthday dinner and happened to mention it (or couldn't keep my mouth shut about it, whichever) and it launched yet another spiritied discussion of preferences and advice.

All day long, as I literally could not keep myself from talking about bikini waxing, I was giggling at all of us, who normally do not talk about our private parts over dinner, or drop our pants in front of their roommates, but who suddenly can't seem to stop ourselves from gushing about how we low we go and what shape we like best.

I certainly can't explain it, but I'm so glad I can finally join the discussion.