I once posted (Waxing Poetic)about a very special person in my life--my deaf Brazilian waxer, Anna Paula. She took very good care of me until last spring. When I called to make my appointment, I found that she had moved away to D.C.--that bitch! How could she?! She didn't even sign goodbye me!
I reluctantly made an appointment with a new girl. I didn't even ask her name--why bother? She wasn't Anna Paula. And not only wasn't she my wonderful deaf Brazilian, but she was terrible. I had the 2nd worst waxing experience of my life. During the waxing she kept making that sucking air sound through her teeth--you know, the sound you hear when you see something really gruesome and you think, "That's got to hurt!" I left with a black and blue crotchital area and a vow to NEVER wax again.
Throughout the summer I tried shaving but that's just not pleasant. The result is itchy, bumpy, sharp stubbleness. (And Brer Rabbit said, "Whatever you do, please don't throw me in that briar patch!!") So when the weather turned, I just gave up and let it go. Until...last week. Alan, while staring at my area, asked, "So, what are you doing with that?" I said, "I'm growing my winter coat. You got a problem with that?" He said, "No, no problem. I was just wondering." Mmmm Hmmmm...just asking. Right.
So I called the spa and made another appointment for a bare bikini (somewhere between a bikini and a full Brazilian.) I also made sure I didn't get the savage who waxed me last. I was still dreading it until I met Skyler, my new waxer. She was sweet, easy to chat with, gentle, and fast. Best of all, she wasn't intimidated by, as Alan called it, my 70's Porn star look. I didn't think it would ever happen again, but it did...I love her. And the sun is once again shining on my hoo-ha, so to speak.