i'm pretty well known for over sharing a lot of personal information. i warn you now that if that bothers you about me, stop reading this post immediately.
if i ever open up a salon devoted entirely to brazilian bikini waxes, i'm going to name it 42 wrinkles. and if that happens, i'm going to have lindsay rent the retail space next to me and open a cupcake shopPE named 42 sprinkles, just to be kind of a jerk (what goes better together than pubic waxing and massive amounts of frosting?).
anyway. you might be wondering why i would call a wax boutique 42 wrinkles. benjamin once told me that the average human butthole has 42 wrinkles (fun facts like these are one of the many reasons i love him so dearly) and i'm happy to say that i can confirm this fact after my intimate wax session today, held in lindsay's guest bathroom, where i managed to accidentally glue my ass cheeks together. when i managed to pull the wax away, a feat that felt pretty similar to ripping my own asshole skin off, i noted that the indentations in the wax really WERE wrinkly! a quick count of 90 degrees around the wax and a bit of multiplication led me to an estimation of 40 butthole wrinkles. fantastic! i assume because i'm only 27 AND my dad administers a lot of restalyn that i probably have fewer than average butthole wrinkles. maybe a 60 year old has more. i don't know. for the record, i was not trying to wax my butthole. i have experience with that involving a chubby pakistani woman at a spa in the whitechapel borough of london, but that's a story for another day. this was merely a mishap involving various factors, including too much time between waxes, being out of practice with application, and oh, MOLTEN HOT WAX BEING APPLIED TO MY CROTCH.
let's back up. i like a clean pubis area, especially now that we are entering the holiday season. nothing says "holiday" to me like having a freshly waxed box in honor of all of the other boxes that are being spiffed up for the occasion. the strippers didn't help, i'll admit. those girls are like fucking hairless cats. hairless cats covered in spray tan, glitter, a smidge of cocaine dust. i could have gone to my sister's preferred waxer, and for $50 she would have cleaned up the region and sent me on my way in about 20 minutes. sadly, i didn't feel like figuring out how to get to this girl without a car OR spending $50, so i decided a little at home number couldn't be that bad...after all, it never has been in the past.
sadly, it had been 4 months since my last wax.
WHAT. don't judge me.
if things with hot rob and the maybe date had gone better maybe i would have felt the need to wax before the ol' christmas lights came out and my belly panis (formed over thanksgiving) obscured the vision of my vajayjay. ugh. but no. hence, today when i went to take care of this little problem, i was faced with a dense bush not unlike an amazonian woman. of course, the outer edges were easy. sure, the hairs were roughly 6 inches long and i had to remove the braids and tibetan beads i had put in during my spare time over the past third of a year, but it was still sparse enough to be pretty painless. i tried to avoid the apex of my mane until absolutely necessary. women who wax know what i'm talking about. it's similar to summiting mt. kilimanjaro (haha. as if i would know what that's like) to rip out those deeply rooted hairs at the point just north of your clit with molten hot wax. i don't care if you have waxed for 80 years...those bitches are in there DEEP and no amount of pain tolerance makes it a comfortable moment.
at the summit of kilimanjaro i choked. i got the wax stuck, which is funny because that's what wax is supposed to do. one tug, two tugs, three tugs...i just couldn't do it. i was left with a lime green hitler mustache while i considered my options. "well, i'll just clean up a bit around the area," i thought, "no harm in going back over a few of the harder to reach places". yup. once again i misjudged the best option. a little too much wax and a little too far of a reach left it smeared on my wrinkly hole. ok i'll be honest. the warm wax felt nice for about 1 second, until i straightened up and my cheeks clashed together like those toy monkeys with cymbals. oh. i realised my mistake immediately. hitler 'stache in the front, glued together ass cheeks in the back.
i had two choices: rip out the mustache first, or rip it out second. after spending a good 2 minutes psyching myself up, i did it. i would have clenched my cheeks to make it a little easier to handle but they were already glued together. feeling victorious and ignoring the fact that this experience had drawn blood, i went for the reach around.
imagine that. maybe even try it if you're alone right now.
it's awkward to wax your asshole because you can't get a good grip on things (and i have long arms). alright. it's just awkward to wax your asshole. so here i was, left with a slightly bloody hitler mustache where my bush once was and holding what looks like a green silly putty impression of my asshole. 42 wrinkles, indeed. of course, instead of this taking only 20 minutes like it should have, it took about 90. an hour and a half of hot wax, strange yogic positions to reach certain hidden regions, and, alright, a couple episodes of frasier to help with the mounting tension of the situation. i would post a picture of the wastebasket filled with lime green wax covered in pubes, but even i think that's going too far. probably mentioning that and letting you form a mental picture was too far, but whatever.
so because i love lists, here are a few tips for your next wax experience:
1) buy hard wax. you're already dealing with a lot of variables down there. just make it easier on yourself and get hard wax.
2) shower first. the warmth helps open the pores.
3) bring a bottle of bourbon into the bathroom with you. and your laptop.
4) don't give up. commit to the moment and just do it. you got yourself into this mess, you have to get yourself out of it.
5) think about how much worse it would be if you had to wax balls. that's a lot of loose skin. i tried that once (obvi not on me...tranny much?) and it didn't go well. that's another story.
6) if "jungle lady" passes through your mind when you look down, please just pay the $50.
but i don't know what to do with those tossed salads and scrambled eggs.