Whenever I’m deep in the throes of my pubic awareness efforts (Muffuary, Movember, etc.) I receive several email and, occasionally, gift cards, from people specific to waxing or laser treatment.
This last Movember was no different. Thus, I finally caved and decided to set an appointment for a Brazilian. Being a supportive friend, Live Longer joined me.
We arrived at our appointments ready to go. When one goes to the dentist, they brush and floss their teeth beforehand. When one gets a Brazilian, preparation is important. “I stopped eating certain foods so I won’t be gassy,” Live Longer advised me. “Oops,” I replied.
Not having had a Brazilian before, I wasn’t sure how it was going to go and didn’t even think about whether or not I might have gas. Luckily, I didn’t have gas and, even luckier, Live Longer joined me for my wax. Some friends buy each other bracelets, necklaces, rings, and charms. Not us, we show our loyalty to each other by getting Brazilians together.
My Brazilian went smoothly – pun intended. I only clenched my teeth, squealed and held Live Longer’s hand a few times. “There’s a chance you may be selling your other waxing coupon,” Live Longer giggled. When it was her turn, we traded places. She laid on the exam table and I sat in the chair, next to the table, close to her face. “You don’t have much hair, this should be easy,” the aesthetician told her. “She didn’t tell that to me,” I advised Live Longer. “I also have a high pain tolerance, I’m Asian,” Live Longer advised. “Can you please make her feel something?” I asked the aesthetician, and she did.
We left the salon a few ounces lighter and slightly chillier – this explains why the animals grow a thicker coat for the winter – and I quickly returned Live Longer to her home for a little Brazilian cinq à sept with her hubby. Unfortunately, he wasn’t home and she was locked out of the house. Thus, we did what anyone would do when they are all Brazilianed up with nowhere to go, we went to That’s Not Chinese’s house for wine, food, fire and That’s Not Chinese’s commentary about the ‘puff in the back.’ Yes, puff in the back. Not sure what it is? She is quite sure. “The puff in the back is the worst part,” she advised us. “Worse than the muff in the front?” Live Longer asked. “By far,” That’s Not Chinese proclaimed. Back, front, middle, they were all pretty comparable in my opinion. Regardless, I can now tick that (waxed) box. I’ve had a Brazilian. Next time: vajazzling.