Wax On :: Wax Off :: Part 2

(If you’re a little naive in the ways of waxing, see the glossary at the end of this post.)

A trip to the Hollywood Hills

It’s not what you think. It really amounted to a miscommunication, or non-communication. And, it probably was my fault. But really, before smoothing hot wax on to one of the most sensitive areas of the female body, let’s just double-check, shall we?

I needed a wax. I made the appointment and I went. It all happened within hours. I didn’t have time to plan what kind of underwear to wear. (Yes, you’d think I’d learn the first time. Shut up.)

She left me to undress. This is something I don’t really understand. Why do they bother to leave? They know you’re there for a wax. They know they’re going to spend at least 30mins hovering over your groin, as you lie spread-eagled, submitting to torture. Let’s hurry it up, I’ll whip off my shoes/skirt/jeans and jump onto the bed and you can start. I don’t want to wait for you to come back after a disproportionate amount of time. And how long do you think it takes for me to undress anyway? We’re not talking about seduction.

As she turned to go, I remembered that I was wearing French knickers, which look more like hot-pants, and are not at all ideal for waxing. So I asked her, in an awkward manner unusual for me, whether she had those disposable panties I could wear or whether I should just take it all off. She’d run out of those handy throw-away pants, so all-off it would have to be. Okay, no problem, I thought only too quickly.

When she started trimming my pubes, I should have known something was up. Perfection is something I like, so I thought I’d leave her to it. Then she started waxing, in places she really shouldn’t have been for a standard bikini wax.
“Stop!” I cried, “What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry,” she looked startled, hot wax dripping onto my only crop of curls, “I thought you said all off?”
“Nooooo” I wailed, “I was talking about my panties.”
“Oh shit! I’m going to have keep going here, and even it up.”
“Okay!” I squeaked.

At which point we both packed up laughing till we cried. It was a good cover! And I knew it’d be a story I’d tell. And there was no doubt; it’d be a story that she’d tell. And I might have limped a little and opted for commando to allow a brief recovery! But now, I’m very clear, short of actually drawing on a line. You’ve got to draw the line somewhere.

Bikini Wax: waxing along the bikini line
G-String Wax: a little closer to the lady-bits, waxing along the g-string line
Brazilian: Also known as the landing strip – most off, with a little thin patch of hair
Hollywood: All off. Yip - all of it. Nothing left. We’re talking Lolita here chaps.