Ok, brace yourself, this is a post about vaginas, or rather the styling of the body hair which adorns them and then the painful ripping off of it!
You have been warned!
And at this stage of the A to Z Blogging Challenge quite frankly this is as good as it gets!
Summer has already arrived in Gran Canaria and it’ll be here till about November, which means one thing…
Bearing flesh, lot’s of it, all the time!
A thought that has me grappling for the razor and body scrubs before you can say ‘Hawaiian Tropic!’
De-fuzzing is certainly nothing new.
The ancient Egyptians were fervent hair removers, for both vanities sake and in an effort to avoid lice and parasites.
Nowadays I believe most of us remove unwanted body hair for slightly more aesthetic reasons, or at least I bloody hope so!
They used a form of sugaring, which involved rolling around balls of warmed beeswax over the pesky hairs, and ripping them out thus.
It’s said, even cave men and women liked the smooth and silky look. Apparently, they rubbed the hairs with a small rock in a bid to remove them. Ouch!
I guess it was more comfy to be hairless under your Mammoth-fur knickers…
Waxing is BIG business in Gran Canaria and nowadays the fellas are as likely to be found spread-eagled on a massage table getting doused in wax as the ladies are.
In my hairdressers, you literally have to elbow your way through the blokes lining up to get their eyebrows, arses and legs waxed. You’re more likely to see a full wine bottle in my my gaff, than you are to see a hairy back in Gran Canaria!
My first foray into hair removal was aged 9, when I stole my father’s razor and shaved my legs. My furtive fiddling in the bath ended up with my poor ankles being ripped to shreds and me getting a right bollocking off my father for wrecking his razor.
Years later I turned to waxing and this is where I’ve stayed.
And as happy as I am to DIY-it in most beauty matters, dolloping molten wax over my lady bits is not one of them!
I’ll never forget my first experieince of a ‘get ready for summer’ waxing treatment, which comprised of an under-arm, leg and bikini wax.
The first two treatments went smoothly enough.
Then we got to the dreaded bikini line…
“So what are we doing today then?” asked the young therapist in a bright and breezy hairdressery tone, and she reeled off the options available.
My initial thought was ‘Jesus mun, what happened to a simple short back and sides?’ after nervously making my selection she was off, and my God the girl was a demon!
She turned a 100 watt lamp on my va-jay-jay, yanked my knickers about mercilessly, threw my leg over her shoulder and set to work!
Twenty minutes later, minus dignity and in a bath of sweat, I was done.
As I lay on the bed quivering, she proudly offered me a mirror to examine her handiwork (honest to bloody God!). Then after a few deep breaths I climbed shakily off the bed and squeaked “Could I have a glass of water please?”
A few panadols, a stiff drink and lashings of Aloe Vera gel later, I gingerly peered southward, I was slightly startled at the ‘new me’, all I need was a diamanté tanga and some nipple tassels and I coulda passed as an exotic dancer!
I now wax lyrical (no pun intended) to all my friends about the virtues of Brazilian waxing ‘down there’ and in the words of the wise Gwyneth Paltrow after having her first Brazilian “It changed my life”.
Of course this isn’t for everyone and I am also kinda torn on the message this kind of extreme waxing sends out to young girls. I certainly would be loathe to see my own daughter go through this form of tanga torture when she is older.
But since I live in bikini-toting-Gran Canaria and I’m not diggin’ the retro bush look, right now this option works for me.
I will however, draw the line at va-jazzling my va-jay-jay, coz I’d rather have crystals on my fingers than dropping off in my drawers!
For more low-brow va-jay-jay talk you can read this post right here too. ;)
Now go get yourself a damn fine weekend ya’ll and I will see you back here on Sunday for the final leg of the A to Z blogging challenge x