I wanted to get a Brazilian wax for years to see what all the hype was about, but I just couldn’t work up the courage to go out and actually do it. And then I endured 36+ hours of childbirth and realized if I could handle that, I could handle a little wax between my legs.
So, the day before my 6-week OBGYN check-up, I made an appointment at a salon close to our home. I’d been there a few times before for the odd mani/pedi and eyebrow threading, and figured they knew what they were doing.
I was wrong in that assumption.
Twenty minutes and a lot of sweat, tears, and swearing later, my newborn and I were on our way back to our car.
And that’s when things started to go downhill.
As it turns out, the esthetician was supposed to tell me to hold my skin taunt each time she ripped a piece of wax off my nether regions.
But she didn’t.
She also failed to clean up the excess wax after the procedure, so my lady bits basically self-waxed themselves for the next several hours before I had the chance to search the internet for ways to remove wax from human skin.
Note: baby oil.
And did I mention I had my OBGYN appointment the next day? What a nightmare THAT was. I was already worried about the mess between my legs, but that appointment was going to be the longest outing I’d done with my newborn, and I had no one I could drag along with me for emotional support.
Naturally, my OBGYN was running behind schedule the morning of my appointment, and by the time he came into my exam room, it was like a scene out of Saturday Night Live: I was naked from the waste down with a gown haphazardly thrown over me, my baby was screaming at the top of her lungs, and I was bent over her stroller singing along to the lullabies that were blaring from my iPhone while simultaneously rocking her back and forth.
And I had my back to the door.
And I’d forgotten to close the back of my gown.
When I finally got on the table for my exam, my OBGYN decided he was going to perform a pap spear.
Six weeks after I gave birth.
This made me nervous.
First, I apologized that I had to keep the lullabies playing to keep my daughter calm, and told him to think of it as “mood music”.
Next, I told him I’d had a bit of a mishap with a Brazilian wax the day prior, and held my gown up for him to see.
And then I asked him five times if it would be okay for my husband and I to…“wrestle” that night.
It wasn’t my finest moment.
Two and a half years later, and I have yet to work up the courage to get another Brazilian wax.
Have you ever had a Brazilian wax done? Was it as torturous as my experience?