I'm Fucking Hilarious
So I bought these awesome little wax strips, you know, the ones that all you have to do is rub the strip between your fingers and the friction heats the wax? As they seem to only come in multi-paks, and I only need them to wax my upper lip, I decided to attempt to use one of the bigger strips to wax my bikini line. This wasn’t nearly as successful as I’d hoped. First off, the strip was too wide, meaning I could choose to either use it as an industrial strength pore strip, or take off half the hair on my vagina. Did this deter me? Of course not. Angling as best I could, I applied the strip, achieving option one and option two simultaneously. Now covered in wax and still looking like a victim of hypertrichosis, I waddle to the bathroom, sticking to myself like one sticks to Nana’s plastic covered couch on a hot summer day. I remove the wax and take a look in the mirror, hoping I’d at least made some headway. Instead, I think more hair grew just to spite me. So, sighing, I climb into the shower, knowing I must resort to the usual shaving ritual. It is at this point I suddenly realize why women really go Brazilian. It’s not because some super model said to. It’s not because their secretly pedophilic boyfriends get all drippy at the sight of their faux pre-pubescent vaginae. It’s not because being bare makes them feel sexy. It’s self preservation, or pussy preservation for the alliterate. See, our options are fairly limited. Unless we want to look and feel like a wookie has taken up residence between our legs, we must keep things trimmed. And men, trust me, the trimming is more for us than for you. Do you know how uncomfortable wearing a built-in fur codpiece is? So, trimmed it must be, it’s all just a matter of how.
We have the scissor method…simply keeping it short. Then we have the scissor/razor method, which keeps that shapely bikini line and makes it look less bearded and more like a goateed clam. Then there’s Nair, or something similar. Unless you’re taking it all off, you have to be very careful to get the foul smelling cream on just the right places…and pray you don’t pass out from the fumes and burn a hole through your precious flesh in the process. And last, but not least, we have waxing. Now, I’m not really a fan of lying back, spreading my legs and baring all of my glorious womanhood to some strange lady until she’s at least bought me dinner, but good luck asking your waxing technician to take you out to Zanzibar’s first and have her not call security. It’s bad enough once a year I climb onto a metal table covered by a thin paper sheet and try to throw my feet over my head while some sadistic bitch shoves a frozen metal duckbill into my vagina and cranks it like the Jaws of Life. I’m not about to pay someone to pluck me like a chicken once a month.
So, being the sensible woman that I am *pause for snickers of disbelief* I tend to go with the scissors/razor combo. This has its own set of flaws. Every woman knows the ritual of bajingo bathing….now do it with a sharp implement in one hand while trying to hold back a chunk of stubborn, slippery, shaving-foam covered flesh and still hopping up and down on one foot. I’ve taken to using a pair of Safe-T-Scissors, you know, the ones that won’t even cut cardboard, and I still manage to perforate my labia majora. And then there’s the issue of trying to shave an area you can’t see. Hoping the whole time that you don’t veer off or miss a huge patch of hair. So yeah, I can definitely see the benefit to looking like Patrick Steward’s head. It sure beats the hell out of risking permanent injury. I mean, can you imagine trying to explain that to the E.R triage nurse? But then, unless you get one of the male nurses on duty that day, I bet it wouldn’t really be all that awkward. Of course, knowing me the conversation would go a little something like this:
Nurse: “Miss Corbin, what brings you in today?”
Me: “I stabbed myself in the vagina.”
Nurse: “Miss Corbin, how many times do I have to tell you? Stabbing your own genitalia will not relieve your cramps.”
Me: “Well, I tried stabbing my coworker, but that didn’t help either…”
Nurse: *rolling her eyes* “I’ll get the suture kit.”