My partner and I have been together for over 17 years, and let me tell you, keeping the passion alive in our relationship can be quite the endeavor. We’ve experimented with various methods to add some excitement: lingerie, toys, and the occasional steamy movie—you name it (no, we’ve never utilized a power tool).
However, my personal favorite form of “spice” has been creating fun designs with my pubic hair. Over time, I’ve shaped hearts, arrows, and even a martini glass down there. (I just realized I might be an artist, and my chosen canvas is pubic hair.) If a design doesn’t turn out quite right, I simply turn it into a Rorschach test, and we still enjoy some great intimacy.
For my partner’s last birthday, I decided to surprise him with a Brazilian wax. I had never had any sort of waxing before, especially not one that would leave me completely bare. I figured, since it was a special occasion, why not go all out?
On the day of the appointment, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves. When the technician arrived, I must have looked terrified.
“First time?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied meekly.
She explained the waxing process, starting with the more sensitive areas. Then she lifted the blanket.
“Oh, we’ll need to trim some of this back first,” she said. Apparently, I had quite the jungle down there. She began trimming with tiny scissors, and I couldn’t help but giggle—a reaction that felt oddly inappropriate considering the circumstances.
“Okay, now let’s tackle the sensitive area,” she said.
“I’ve given birth twice. This should be a piece of cake,” I tried to sound brave.
“Here we go,” she warned.
What happened next was nothing short of a shock.
“OHMYGOD!” was the scream echoing in my head, but I managed to utter a weak, “I’m okay.”
She pressed down on my pubic bone, presumably to ease the discomfort. “Harder!” I wanted to shout, but I refrained, trying to keep the atmosphere professional.
After what felt like an eternity, the ordeal finally came to an end. She applied a soothing balm afterward, but I was too exhausted for even a sigh of relief.
While the awkwardness and pain were bearable, they weren’t the reasons I decided never to get another Brazilian. Here are the three main reasons:
- After the technician left, I dragged myself off the table and caught a glimpse in the mirror. It wasn’t just the bare skin that shocked me; it was the realization that my stretch marks stretched all the way down into my “triangle.” They looked like bizarre, greedy fingers pointing downward or lightning bolts warning others to stay away. Thankfully, my partner seemed oblivious and was very pleased with the results.
- Without the hair providing a buffer, I found myself in a constant state of arousal. This led to an unexpected increase in intimacy—much to my partner’s delight. I felt like I could pounce on anyone at any moment. We had a lot of fun for a week, but the high didn’t last long.
- As the hair began to grow back, I quickly transitioned from ecstasy to pure agony. Apparently, I am not a suitable candidate for waxing. The itching was just the beginning of my misery. I discovered that I was prone to ingrown hairs, which hurt like hell. I began to complain about having boils and other unfortunate ailments. I felt like a character from a medieval fantasy, definitely not the alluring woman I had hoped to be.
So, that’s it for me and Brazilians. I’m sticking to my pubic hair art instead. I’m even contemplating creating a chili pepper design next.
For more insights on home insemination and related topics, check out this post on our other blog.
In summary, while waxing may seem appealing, the reality often leads to discomfort, unexpected revelations, and a host of issues that outweigh the benefits.