After over 17 years of marriage to my husband, it can sometimes feel like we need to stir things up a bit in the bedroom. We’ve tried all sorts of things to keep the excitement alive: lingerie, toys, and yes, even some romantic films (though I promise, we’ve never used a drill). However, my favorite way to add a little flair has been through intricate designs in my pubic hair. I’ve carved out hearts, arrows, and even a martini glass over the years. I just realized that I might be an artist, and my canvas happens to be my pubic hair! (Don’t worry, I’m not sharing any photos here.)
For my husband’s last birthday, I thought I’d surprise him with a Brazilian wax. I had never had any sort of waxing done before, let alone one that removed everything (I know they don’t have to take it all off, but my motto was “go big or go home”). It seemed like a fun way to honor my husband, so I scheduled the appointment.
The day of the appointment arrived, and I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. When the technician walked in, I gave her a sheepish smile. “First time?” she asked. “Yep,” I replied quietly. She explained the process, starting with the most sensitive areas first. Then, to my horror, she announced, “We need to trim things back a bit.” Apparently, I had grown quite the jungle down there. As she snipped away with tiny scissors, I couldn’t help but giggle, feeling both amused and embarrassed.
Once she was done trimming, she moved on to the waxing. “This might sting a bit,” she warned. I bravely responded, “How bad can it be? I’ve given birth to two kids!” But when she ripped off the first strip, I was internally screaming, “HOLY MOTHER!” while managing to say, “I’m okay” through gritted teeth. It was an oddly intimate experience, and I tried to focus on my breathing to get through it.
The first wax was indeed the worst, but the discomfort didn’t end there. After what felt like an eternity, she finished and applied a soothing salve. I was hoping for a nice massage or at least a nice glass of wine afterward.
But here’s why I’ve decided to forgo Brazilian waxes for good:
- My Stretch Marks: After the technician left, I got up to look in the mirror and was shocked to see stretch marks that extended all the way down into my bikini area. They looked like little fingers guiding the way. Thankfully, my husband was too busy enjoying the results to notice.
- Uncontrollable Horniness: Without hair acting as a buffer, I found myself feeling more in the mood than ever—like, all the time. My husband didn’t mind this newfound desire, but it became kind of distracting. I wanted to pounce on him at every opportunity, and let’s just say we had a very active week.
- The Aftermath: Once the hair started growing back, my pleasure quickly turned to agony. I discovered that I’m prone to ingrown hairs, which were more painful than I anticipated. I felt like I had a disease. Not even a Dothraki warrior from Game of Thrones would have been interested in me looking like that.
So, that’s it for me and Brazilian waxes. I’m going to stick to my creative pubic hair designs for a little extra spice in our lives. Next on my agenda? Maybe a chili pepper.
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In summary, I’ve learned that Brazilian waxes are not for me, and I’ll stick to pubic hair art.