A Pretty Painless Hollywood Wax – A Virgin’s Account

Okay, so it wasn’t “painless” but it wasn’t the horrific experience I had anticipated.

Despite my profession and age, I had never had a Hollywood wax or even a bikini wax before today. I couldn’t get over the idea of how embarrassing it would be to have a stranger handling my lady parts and viciously tearing the hair from my delicate skin.

There are obviously benefits of waxing over shaving such as no shaving rash, minimised regrowth, and a beautiful smoothness. As someone who frequently prances around in fishnet tights and sparkly g-strings and is thusly required to maintain this area, I was very aware of these benefits and I had considered getting a wax on many occasions.

Aside from the potential embarrassment, I was put off by one other issue. In order to get a wax and achieve that Barbie doll smoothness, you must let the hair grow. And as a frizzy-haired mixed race girl, when I let this happen things get pretty wild! There was no way that I would have felt comfortable strutting around the stage in Paris while my lady business was in the disarray necessary before a successful wax. And so I kept on putting it off.

But I’m back at home and with a few weeks down time before my next contract, I finally decided to take the plunge. I booked the appointment yesterday so I wouldn’t have too much time to reconsider and cancel it.

This morning, I made sure to have a thorough wash and trim any long bits that had the potential to cause great pain. I decided to wear joggers rather than jeans just in case I was super sensitive and tight clothing would irritate it. I also took 400mg of ibuprofen as an extra precaution.

At the spa I was led to a room and was given a few minutes privacy to get undressed and situated. I’d been told to remove my bottom half and then sit on the bed and cover myself in a towel. If I was wearing stretchy underwear, I could leave it on. I did.

When the girl returned, any awkwardness I might have felt was instantly eradicated as she launched right into conversation as smoothly as she spread the wax. She got right to work as I told her about what I did and what it was like working abroad.

One of my concerns with getting intimately waxed by someone in my home town was that it’s a small town. I kept imagining how mortifying it would be to get it done by someone I used to go to school with or who was a few years below me. It would be so cringe-worthy. This is why I have always thought that my ideal beautician would be a little old lady who barely spoke English and was relatively new to town. She would have seen it all before so wouldn’t be shocked by my (imagined?) vaginal deformity and even if she was, she couldn’t comment on it in any way that anyone would understand. Perfect.

The girl I got today was young and local but fortunately unfamiliar. As we got talking however, I discovered she went to school with one of my current best friends who I used to dance with. Seriously, what are the chances?! As we continued talking I got the impression they were now nothing much more than Facebook friends so I can probably rest assured that she won’t turn up the next time I meet my friend for drinks.

The conversation continued to flow and the time passed quickly.

At one point she asked me if I was okay and complimented me on my tolerance for pain. Apparently most people flinch like crazy and close their legs up. For me, it was pas mal. It definitely hurt but it wasn’t as bad as I expected. Maybe it was the painkillers or maybe I’m hard as nails. Or maybe it’s just not as painful as TV and film would have you believe. I think it’s worse when you get your legs done and they do that awful little bit round the ankle. Stings like a b****! Having said that, 5 hours later I am still very aware of my nether regions.

Less than 15 minutes after my arrival I was hair free. At the front anyway.

‘Do you want your bum doing?’ She asks casually. To which I respond, ‘Sure why not?’ As if we’re in a fast food restaurant and she’s offering to add a dessert at no extra cost.

I’d had images of getting on all fours and spreading my bum cheeks at this point but instead I just rolled over and lay flat whilst holding the g-string to one side. Thirty seconds later, I’m all done.

The whole experience was so much less traumatic than I imagined it to be that I felt an almost overwhelming desire to generously tip the girl. Fortunately, I remembered just in time that I’m in a creative and financially uncertain industry so I just paid the £15 and gave a very sincere ‘thank you’ instead.

After getting her Bachelors in Social Anthropology, Hannah Hoad took the next obvious step and left the UK to pursue a career as a dancer. She enjoys her gypsy lifestyle and travelling to new places.  She is addicted to watching TV and reading romance novels which she hopes to one day write herself. You can read more from Hannah on her blog.

Featured Image via Shutterstock.

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