Recently I paid a young Irish lady $55 to put burning hot wax on my vagina, then rip it off with some strips of linen.
I took 2 nurofen plus an hour before my appointmentt and was feeling pleasantly fuzzy as I lay back on her table.
Then she slathered boiling hot lava on my labia and the pleasant feeling vanished.
She relentlessly applies the hot lava wax, then rips it off. Several times the wax hasn’t fully set and I’m terrified she’s about to tear a piece of my vulva off.
It hurts. Oh it hurts. I want to scream out but strangely I’m sort of embarrassed, like I deserve this pain for having such a hairy bush.
I think the worst of it is over, after a terrible 15 minutes. I swear to myself NEVER again, then to my own surprise, when she asks in her pleasant Irish lilt if I would ‘like my bum done’ I say ‘yes please’.
Yes please? No, god, no. It’s too late. I have to lift my legs up and wrap my arms around them. My whole body is shuddering with the effort in keeping them raised.
Then she liberally applies more burning hot lava to and around my asshole and I’m clenching my fists and making strange gasping sounds, and it’s entirely possible she thinks I may be about to come.
All finished doll, she tells me kindly, pointing out the lotion and some hygiene wipes for my use. I smile weakly and as she leaves the room I look at myself in the mirror and wonder why did I just let this happen?
I pay my $55 and limp out of there, go to the toilet and my wee sprays out in 16 different directions. So far, this is not so great.
After a few days the red dots subside and I look less like I have some contagious disease. I feel lighter and fresher. It’s quite pleasant. But dammit my hairless vagina, sorry vulva, looks so vulnerable. Not like a proud and strong woman at all, more like a timid child. I decide the next $55 I have lying around will be spent on a full body massage or possibly a nice bottle of gin and I will never, I repeat NEVER, undergo such an outrageous procedure again.