Bye Bye Bushy!

Photo by DanBrady flickr.

The appointment is made, and my apprehension is growing.  If I can muster the courage, I am getting a Brazilian on Friday...this Friday.  I phoned Nikki, booked my time, and hung up.  Moments later, she called back and suggested I take a couple of advil about half an hour before the appointment, "To take the edge off", she said. "If you're nervous."  "I am", I told her.  Don't tell Nikki, but warning me to medicate prior to the appointment did not reduce my anxiety.  Now my mind is racing.


I am really freaked out about this.  It has to hurt, right? That hair has been around for a long time. The roots have grown deep. I am not sure they will surrender without a fight. I am also not sure if she will go after the back door or not.  Technically, a Brazilian means the whole enchilada or taco if you must.  I also wonder if my skin will freak out after the waxing.  Generally, after I have any waxing done, my skin becomes fiery red, and irritated.  This look, down-town, would be less than flattering.  I have read scary skin infection stories where bush-wacking has lead to the tragic death of the vain waxee.  Is this worth risking my life for?  Most of my attempts at vanity have led to vile repercussions.  Like the time I tried self tanner, and was so deathly allergic I ended up on prednisone.

What will I say to my daughter if she sees my baldness?  "Where did your hair go, mommy?" "Well honey, your daddy likes it this way?" or "This is a sign of a sexually empowered woman".  Some wax patrons intentionally keep a small amount of lady hair down there to minimize the reaction by their children.  I can get on board with that.

Much like a woman anticipating her cleaning lady's next visit, I am pre-cleaning my house.  I don't want Nikki to think I am a slob, after all.  I have been doing a little styling, for fear she might be overwhelmed by my au-naturalness.  I even bought some "Refreshing Feminine Wipes" to make sure my bits are immaculate.  Waxers get up close and personal with y'all, and I hear tell they can tell if things are getting stale down there, if you catch my drift. I am going to stash them in my purse, and visit the ladies room right before the appointment.  Surely she will believe that "Spring Fresh" is my normal perfume.

I am probably over-reacting.  Women do this everyday, and even on a regular basis.  Heck, I may even grow to love it. My husband might like it too. Right now though, I am as nervous as a child about to get a shot.