I Was A Brazilian Wax Virgin
Oh the pain, the pain! Was the wax worth it?
I remember years ago watching Sex and the City, when Carrie went to LA for her book tour and got her first Brazilian. She didn’t call it that; she implied that she was “bare down there.” I didn’t pay much attention, but my girlfriends did, and as fast as you can pull a cloth strip from your skin, everyone was doing it.
Everyone but me. I had been sticking with the basic bikini wax. That is, when I remembered and had time. Truthfully, the only time I even bothered was when I was dating. No one complained that I wasn’t bald, so I didn’t bother.
What made me change my mind and decide to do it? Curiosity, plain and simple. I wanted to see what the fuss was all about. A Brazilian, if you don’t know, is when they take off everything “down there.” Yes, we’re talking waxing your labia majora and the skin between your butt cheeks.
I made an appointment for my first Brazilian at Completely Bare, in New York City, a salon with a celebrity clientele and a reputation for giving one of the best Brazilian treatments ever. They even do vajazzling- and no, I’m not ever going to do that.
Completely Bare has four locations, and I went to their downtown spot on lower Fifth Avenue. As I got closer and closer to the salon, two things happened: My heart started to race uncontrollably and my legs temporarily stopped moving. Luckily, the salon has a soothing lounge area that’s decorated in white with pink and purple M+Ms in large bowls. (Personally, I think that wherever you go, there should be large vats of free M+Ms. Just a thought.)
My technician, Rebecca, a slim, friendly woman with long brown hair, introduced herself and showed me to the treatment room. The treatment room was long and narrow; about the size of a nice walk-in closet. It too, was decorated in white. There was a long narrow bed — the type you see in salons across the country, luxe and not. She told me to get take everything off below the waist, “Really? Everything?” I exclaimed. She nodded and smiled.
Before she left, she told me that there were wipies that I could use to make sure that I was completely clean. She walked out, and I stared at the wipies lying smack dab in the middle of the bed. What the hell have I gotten myself into?