As women, we all know we have “maintenance” we have to do. Clean up the bikini line, take care of strays, that kind of thing. But one thing I did not know as a naive 27-year-old woman was that some women take it all off. Yes, some women go bald. When I first heard this, I was sure my husband was bullshitting me. I mean, who would want to look like a 10 year old when they were in their 20s? And who would want to fuck a pussy that looked like that?
Going Bald, the First Time
Apparently, plenty of men. So, amid great skepticism, I tried it. I first went bald by shaving. I lathered up my nether-regions with shaving cream and went to work. It took quite a bit of work and I had quite a few cuts. I walked around the bathroom for 15 minutes with little pieces of kleenex stuck to the bleeding cuts on my hoo-ha. And then a few days later it itched like crazy when the hair started to grow back. This whole thing was worse than I imagined. After several weeks of daily maintenance, cutting my “lips,” and dealing with razor burn, Matthew encouraged me to get a wax. I accepted it. I was going to let another woman be all up in my business. (See Blog #1: Removing the Hair “Down There.”)
Walking in to my local waxing salon, I kind of knew what to expect. I knew they had to “get in there” with the wax and I was pretty sure it wouldn’t feel good. But I didn’t anticipate the degree to which my lips would be lifted and separated, nor the amount of wax that would be spread between every crevice. Then there was the feet-together-knees-out positing in which you sit while a woman goes about the business of de-hairing your hoo-ha.
Pulling it Out By the Roots
The esthetician used a wooden tongue depresser-like stick to smear on the warm wax. it went on smoothly, and then she placed a piece of white cloth on top of the wax. She pressed for a second and then ripped it off like a bandaid. Let me tell you, it was a shock. Mother fucker that hurt! The pressure she put on the now-bare skin helped relieve the bite, but WOW that was awful! Seeing my obvious discomfort, she offered a few helpful hints: Don’t hold your breath. Don’t tense your muscles. Relax. (Um…..ok?)
As the procedure continued, I looked up at the ceiling and listened to her chatter, all the while thinking: “Do I make eye contact? Does my hoo-ha smell bad? Does she like looking at pussy all day? Surely she must because she got in this business. Does mine look better or worse than others? Is she going to make fun of it when I leave?”
When she had stripped me clean, she asked if I wanted my bum done. A friend had warned me about this. Uh, no, I don’t want to get on all fours while you spread my butt cheeks and smear hot wax around my asshole. No thanks. So she left, and I got redressed and walked out to pay. There was no snickering, no funny smiles, no sideways glances at the women at the checkout counter. Ok, then. Maybe my va-jay-jay is like all the others. Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.
I found that, as time goes on, you get used to the feeling of your pubes getting ripped out by their roots. Now I barely flinch. I will also say that once you go bald, you never go back.
End Note: Matthew affectionately refers to me in my pre-waxing days as Sasquatch.