My husband and I have been happily married for over 17 years (yes, I was a young bride—no surprise there!). Keeping the spark alive in our intimate life can sometimes be a challenge, but we’ve tried all kinds of things over the years: lingerie, toys, and yes, even some steamy films (no, we’ve never employed a power tool). But my favorite way to add excitement? Pubic hair art. Yes, you read that right. I’ve crafted various shapes into my pubic hair over time—hearts, arrows, and even a martini glass, if you can believe it. (I might just be an artist, with pubic hair as my canvas!) If a design doesn’t quite turn out, I just call it abstract art and we still enjoy a great night together. (And no, you won’t see any photos of that here.)
For my husband’s last birthday, I thought it would be a fun surprise to get a Brazilian wax. Now, I had never had any part of my body waxed before, let alone the most intimate area. I figured, go big or go home, right? So I scheduled the appointment, not really thinking about the actual process until the day arrived. I was a bit nervous and gave the technician a wide-eyed look when she walked in.
“First time?” she asked.
“Yep,” I replied meekly.
She explained how it would go, starting with the most sensitive areas (thanks for the heads-up!). Then she moved the blanket and said, “Oh, we need to trim this back a bit.” Apparently, I had quite the jungle down there. As she snipped away with tiny scissors (thankfully, no chainsaws were involved), I couldn’t help but giggle nervously—it felt a little strange but oddly nice.
“Okay, I’m going to start with the most sensitive area now,” she said.
I tried to channel my inner warrior, thinking, “I’ve given birth twice. How hard can this be?”
And then it happened. The first rip of wax hit me like a freight train. “HOLYMOTHEROFALLTHINGS!” I screamed in my head, though my actual response was a weak, “I’m okay.”
As she pressed her hand against my pubic bone (I assume to ease the pain), I thought, “Harder! HARDERRRR!” which probably added to the awkwardness of the moment.
After what felt like an eternity, the worst was over, but that didn’t mean the experience was painless. Once she finished and applied some soothing salve, I hopped off the table—well, more like slid off in a puddle of my own sweat. I glanced in the mirror and was horrified to see that my pregnancy stretch marks extended all the way down! They looked like greedy little fingers pointing the way down. But thankfully, my husband didn’t seem to mind; he was quite pleased with the results.
However, here’s where things got wild. With no hair to soften the sensations, I found myself incredibly aroused—constantly. It became a little overwhelming. My husband was thrilled, but I couldn’t focus on anything else. I wanted to pounce on him, the waiter, or even a lamppost! Let’s just say we had a lot of fun for a week.
But then, the bliss turned to agony. As the hair began to grow back, I discovered I was not cut out for waxing. The itching was just the tip of the iceberg. I quickly learned that I was prone to ingrown hairs, which hurt like crazy. I felt like I’d contracted something terrible—like I was a character in a medieval fantasy saga, all diseased and unravished.
So, after this chaotic experience, I’ve declared that I’m officially done with Brazilian waxes. From now on, I’ll stick to my beloved pubic hair art for spicing things up. I’m already plotting my next masterpiece—a chili pepper, perhaps?
For more on navigating the wild world of motherhood and intimacy, check out this interesting post on Cervical Insemination. And if you’re considering at-home insemination, Make a Mom offers great kits for those looking to start a family. Plus, for all things pregnancy-related, Healthline is an excellent resource.
In summary, while the Brazilian wax was an adventurous experience, it’s just not for me. I’ll be sticking to my creative shaving instead.
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