I got my first bikini wax in college for Spring Break. This was my first Spring Break where I was headed to a beach without a boyfriend. I was excited. I thought it was going to be fun! I thought it was my step to becoming a cute single girl.
I was wrong.
It was hot, sweaty, and there were rules.
She told me I should *not* be wearing jeans. I should *not* take a shower within 24 hours. And I should *not* let it go 6 weeks before returning.
I do *not* follow rules very well. I did *not* get another wax until I moved to NYC, started chatting with some fellow performers and we got to the subject.
"A beer & an Advil," my new friend quipped,
"then you're good to go."
I was reinspired. It was not long before I found my Lana. She was Eastern European, tough and sweet at the same time, and knew how to make the wax go fast and not make me feel guilty if it had been awhile.
It had been a year or two before I decided to get a little adventurous and try a Brazilian with her. When I arrived at the salon, Lana was not there for my appointment. She had a family emergency.
"She has a family?" I thought to myself. I had imagined she was always sitting in that back room in the salon, waiting for me to arrive with spa needs.
Her replacement for the day was a newbie. AND I was getting a Brazilian, which clearly intimidated her, as I could see little beads of sweat forming at her hairline.
The best part of this salon's wax was that it was a little bit nicer, and it did not require strips of fabric or paper to remove the wax; the wax hardened on its own and the aesthetician rips it off after it hardens.
Looking back on this combination of this type of wax, a newbie wax-er, and a newbie Brazilian-er, I definitely should have paid more for the type of service I received that morning for a good *45* minutes.
We both needed a cold shower after that one.
So that may explain why I did not try another Brazilian, ever, until I came to Philadelphia.
Let me start by saying, no one wants to talk about this. I'm assuming because not everyone needs them but when I first moved to the Main Line, I was struggling to feel like a woman again after child birth, I tried to bring it up at playgroup and the subject fell flat. The convo quickly turned to breast feeding and everyone was happy to chime in.
The first mommy I did get to chat about it didn't actually have any recommendations for me as she had had the whole thing laser'd off.
Bare kitty. Permanently???
Amazing. What if this is a trend that doesn't hold out? As my former boss liked to point out to me, the preference for those coming of age in the 70's was the opposite of bare kitty. Opposite!!! The furrier the better.
So on to my musical days here in Philly. Ah yes, my people had recommendations for me. And of course we knew each other all of a week before it came up. My people.
So there is a woman in Center City who will give you a Brazilian in 5 minutes relatively painlessly. Well. Physically painlessly. But emotionally...
"Who sent you," with a thick Russian accent.
"Fiona?" I answer, tentative as to whether I was supposed to use her real name?
[Fiona is not her real name either.]
"From my job?"
"Where work you"
"At a musical at society hill playhouse?"
"Hm. I know not Fiona."
As she is having this lovely chat with me and I'm sweating what's about to happen she walks me into a back room that is completely tiled wall-to-wall-to-floor in WHITE. To add to that brightness, enough flourescent lighting fills the room to scream "interrogation room" rather than "spa."
That's because, this is not a spa. It's a place to get the fastest Brazilian you've ever had.
And in waxing, fast equals better.
"Take off pants. Lay here."
Let me tell you - she is fast. And that does help to make it painless. But as our relationship progressed over the next year...she got more and more arrogant!! She started demanding more visits. She instituted more rules. It became a vicious cycle as I was less motivated to see her and she laid down more guilt trips the less I visited!!
She was like the worst boyfriend I ever had!!
The last time I saw her, she spent the entire 5-10 minutes berating the amount of work I had put forth in front of her as she aggressively removed the wax. I started crying, left, and never went back.
Sorry to make you cringe!! Don't be sad. It has a good ending. But there is a tad bit more cringing.
Main Line, PA
Present day. Enter my mother-in-law. [told you.]
I take her to my local salon for mani-pedis to thank her for watching the children that night while we head to our preschool parents' social.
"Hi TwynMawrMom" my wax lady shouts to welcome us into the salon. She is soo sweet. She is my rock. She is my everything!! She never makes me feel bad and would never make me cry. I heart her.
[she doesn't call me TwynMawrMom; we don't even really know each other's names.
That's what works for us. That's how lovely our relationship is.]
"Hi! We're going to get mani-pedis this morning" I smile at her.
"Oh! No wax today???" she asks. I cringe.
"No, just mani-pedis!" I smile again, teeth showing, shoulders pinched up. Just. seat. us!!
"Oh do you get your eyebrows waxed here?" my mother-in-law asks.
Should have said: yes.
"Oh! What then?" she has the nerve and naivete to delve deeper.
"Bikini." I barely breathe out with a whisper. Can we please not have this discussion.
"Oh." she shuts up after that.
It's always a good day when you can embarrass yourself and your mother-in-law with one word.