Going to Brazil, Gonna Eat Me a Lot of Peaches.

Before departing for my journey to the Big D last week, I had a momentary lapse of intelligence and decided to get my muffin waxed. Nay, not waxed- SHREDDED (and not the type of shredded that Scotty and Marit like to refer to; this particular shredding did not involve guttural moans of pleasure). At the ASSVICE of one Snaps McSnapalot, I sought out the services of a pleasant, elderly Hispanic woman with a speech impediment whose name I don't recall but who might as well have called herself Leatherface because the carnage she left behind south of my equator was fairly comparable to that of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

As I entered the salon, I was met at the door by Satan. My first thought was that she definitely chose the right profession, because this woman's height placed her face directly in my crotchal region. Now, I know I'm somewhat of an Amazon yeti when it comes to height, but seriously? This lady was a quasi-dwarf, and frankly her stubby little arms freaked me out just a bit. She asked me if it was my first wax, and when I answered yes, she gave me this devilish smile and replied, "Don't worry. I'll be gentle for your first time." I was suddenly reminded of one of my early highschool boyfriends who honestly believed that those same words would convince me to drop my panties in the backseat of his mom's station wagon. I seriously considered sprinting for the door at that point, but reconsidered because I wasn't wearing the right shoes and the likelihood of me tripping, falling, injuring myself and then being held against my will while hot wax was drizzled on my genitals far outweighed the possibility of me actually escaping. So I stifled the urge and followed her into the torture chamber.

Once in the "massage room" (HA!) I got nekkid and laid down on a table while the lisper senselessly rambled on about shit I could have cared less about because HELLO, I'M ABOUT TO GET SOME HAIR RIPPED OFF OF MY COOCH. At one point, she asked me where I work, and when I named the nearby hospital at which I'm employed, she asked, "Did someone you work with suggest that you come here?"

"Um, no." I replied. "I don't exactly share my feminine hygiene issues with my coworkers. Only strangers on the internet."

"I see," she said. "I was only asking because I did a Brazilian on a nurse from your hospital a few days ago and was wondering if you knew her."

Please don't tell me her name, please don't tell me her name. I silently begged.

Thankfully, she quickly changed the subject once I informed her that finding out which one of my fellow nurses is bare below the belt was not on the top my list of priorities. Instead, she returned her focus to my nether regions and began inspecting my fully grown Chia Pet as if she were the judge at the International Dog Show and my poodle was a contender for best in show. Then she took a popsicle stick and started slopping gobs of scalding hot wax onto my Death Valley and then- now this nearly gave me a full-blown panic attack- she started blowing on it. ON ME. I just about fell off that table right then and there.

As she started ripping the top layer of skin from my best friend, I had to make a very conscious effort to calm myself both physically and mentally. I tried to think of happy things- kittens playing with balls of yarn and bratty children sinking into vats of quicksand- but all the while my vagina was screaming, "NOOOOOOOO!" at the top of it's little vagina lungs.

Once she started working her way into the inner crevices of my Grand Canyon, I started praying to every higher power that may or may not exist to PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP, because this type of punishment should be reserved for the likes of deplorable, beastly human beings such as Saddam Hussein and Martha Stewart. I nearly stopped her and walked right out of there with a vag-hawk, but managed to keep my composure and remain on the table. Still, it seemed that the more tender the area she was working on, the hotter the wax and slower the rip. Then I heard her say something that I can't imagine ever wanting to hear, under ANY circumstance, "a little bit of bleeding is normal after your first time." I may or may not have blacked out for a few minutes after hearing those words, because I really don't remember much more after that.

When she finished mutilating the front of my love nugget, she told me to flip over and spread my legs. Thinking that way too many moments of this experience closely mirrored times I have spent in the back of a station wagon, I obliged and then closed my eyes tightly to prepare for the worst. She spread my cheeks and proclaimed, "Well you don't have much hair back here!" To which the only response I could think of making was, "Thanks."

When she was finally finished, I walked out of there looking and feeling like a stripper with a pole shoved up my ass, but DAMN was my snatch smooth. I think I might just do it again!


At least she didn't call you Margie.

Oh, and did you know that when you bleed it's because they yanked the "hair ball"? Yup. That's a good sign. It means the shit will grow in slower.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuck. I get the the vag hawk myslef and have never, um, gone all the way before. I doubt I ever will now because, damn, that shit ain't right. *shudder*
Every time I lay on the table to get a brazilian, I wonder why in the fuck I am such a masochist.

But then, the smooth cooch, is quite worth it.....
This post almost made me want to get a Dude Brazilian. But then she would rip off chunks of my sac, and I would probably punch her then probably cry.

And there is nothing sadder than watching a fat man weep.

But I'm Glad you went all the way. Somebody has to...

God there is really nothing I can say on this post without sounding creepy.

So uhm... Nevermind.

Waxing is for pussies...I mean...oh nevermind. I'm telling you people, get that shit lasered. It doesn't even hurt and it lasts for like...ever. I haven't shave my pits in MONTHS.
I feel your pain.

Visions of my labia being ripped are dancing in my head. I thought I would need stitches after seeing the CHUNK of flesh, but I was too scared to go to the emergency room. I spent the rest of my day in bed.

I found your new home via DGM & glad you're back on the interweb.

I've been lurking for over a year and enjoy the perspective of an RN who's not yet eligible for an AARP membership.
Holy sweet baby Jesus Christ child.

I say that and let you know that I never take the Lord's name in vain but that, dear friend, that story itself made my ears ring and my eyes start to see black at the sides of my vision.

Put some ice on it?

...that's the best I got. I'm stickin to shaving every day.
Its gets easier - I promise. Been doing it for years and hurts less and there is less to take off. Anyway - the blowing is super wierd, I have never had that happen.

I did go to a lady who used sugaring instead of waxing once and that was the worst experience of my life - it doesn't work as well as wax and takes forever to wax - NOT FUN.

I have a great lady in the Village if you need a recomendation. (she doesn't blow on anything and is super fast.)
so what's tomorrow's 365 photo? Downtown Brazil?
Hey! Where/what is The Big D?
What about the do-it-yourself Brazilian kits?

Dallas, krank!
well, if that isn't just an advertisement to run out there and get a hot Brazilian right this minute, I don't know what is! I'm referring, of course, to a hot Brazilian male, because who would want to experience the kind of torture you just described?!?! What makes this story the best is your unbelievable knack for telling a story and keeping the reader's attention!
Everyone is now going to think i'm crazy because I drink a half bottle of wine and wax my beaver myself.

I've had it done at three different beauticians (where they do not let you dutch courage it up) and I do a better and quicker job at home with a hand mirror and a cheap riesling.

Give it a go - then you can only blame yourself if it hurts too much.

yes, I am well aare of the fact that I am completely insane...
HAHAHAHA!!! I've never been waxed, just how long does the bleeding last anyway? "little vagina lungs"? HAHAHAHA!!!!!

Of course, I had my legs crossed the entire time I was laughing...
I also had the experience of her rubbing my lips and saying, "You're skin is oh, so nice. I like touching smooth skin."


Oh, yeah. Next time, find a place that does the oxygen treatment afterwards. It's THE BEST!
oh my hell, Melanie. That just made me choke a little bit.
OUCH......That's got to hurt!!
Being a brazilian myself, I never understood why it's called that...I never got one and don't know any other brazilian who did!!!!!!!!!!
All I know is, you're very brave!!! Congrats!
christ. megan had me talked into doing it--but now i am not so sure.
Bloody hell, this brought back memories of my first time. My man at the time convinced me to take it all off. After she was done, I looked like a 10 year old girl. That shit ain't right...a bit needs to be left behind showing one's womanhood.
Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?