There are people that you have such a deep connection with that you simply cannot imagine life without them. For me those people are Mr. News Readin', my BFF Hilary and Anka - my waxer extraordinaire. Oh, and Tim Gunn.
WARNING: If you are of the male persuasion the following post will cause heavy wincing, groaning, sucking of air through clenched teeth and down right TMI overload. So, quit reading if lady-scaping is not a subject of interest.
If Mr. News Readin' is persnickety about his hair, I am downright Black Panther fanatical about who waxes me.
Being a New York girl and a Catholic schoolgirl to boot - I didn't waste any time learning the art of lady maintenance. I've been getting my eyebrows waxed since I was 16. (Thank God I had the good sense to get these squirrels under control at an early age.) The natural progression for those who wax their eyebrows is to tend to their nether region in a similar fashion. First bikini wax - 17.
I know...it sounds like I was massive tramp. Well, I was.
JUST KIDDING. I just like keeping it all tidy.
Back in the day I would go into any old nail or hair salon to get waxed. Until, I met Anka, a lovely Czech woman at BLISS 57 in NY. I was there for a facial, standard eyebrow and bikini wax. When it got to be that time to clean out the Flower Bed - she wanted to know if I wanted a landing strip.
Ummm...could you just make it that if I have an emergency trip to St. Bart's - we're all good?
Before I knew it, I had agreed to a landing strip and my first brazilian. I went onto become a fan of the inverted triangle, but you gotta start somewhere.
Brazilians are one of those things that if you knew how excruciating the first one was going to be, you would NEVER-EVER agree to get one or the very least let them do both sides.
Half-naked, on all fours, allowing them to slather hot wax reeeeaallly close to your Flower. Oh, and you are going to pay them to do it. Once you go there with a waxer - you're as close as you can get to someone without a hangover and the hope of avoiding them at next year's sales conference.
When I married Mr. News Readin' and left New York, I think I cried more about leaving Anka than my family and friends. I had no idea how I was going to deal. Solution: my garden would have to be maintained on a bi-monthly basis by taking the JetBlue red-eye from Denver to JFK. It was the only option.
Mr. News Readin', although appreciative of the maintenance plan, did not think going to New York to tidy things up was cost effective. He told me to find a spa in Denver that does brazilians. So, I drove three hours to have wax poured on me by a perfect stranger.
There I am, in a stupid paper thong and some teenager walks in carrying a pot of wax.
Our girl, then proceeds to tell me she has never had a bikini wax. Wait? What? Never had a brazilian? Nope. Never had a BIKINI wax.
Peace Out. Seriously. I hopped off the table and told her she could do my eyebrows while I watch like a hawk in a handheld mirror. But, I'll be damned if I was going to let her ruin what my Eastern Block angel had created down there.
It took a few trips back to New York and a visit to a trannie/stripper/aesthetician in some effed up looking salon in Denver to keep me "in order" that first year. When we moved to the City in Two States, I found a Canadian who had worked in Vegas, and did a decent job. Her skills still paled in comparison to Anka's. She did however introduce me to this:
No Scream Cream. It's kind of messy, but if you are a massive baby (like yours truly) it takes the edge off. Vitamin Xanax and a glass of Pinot Noir has a similar effect - but we don't want them to have to break out the smelling salts to get us off the table. So, go with the cream.
It's time though, to find someone in City K who will never measure up to Anka.
I've canvased a few Junior Leaguers to see if anyone had any recommendations. The looks of shock I received were amusing.
"You get a brazilian?"
"Doesn't it hurt?"
"It sure doesn't tickle."
Needless to say, fruitless. So, I'm going to drive to a city about 2 hours away, to visit the waxer to that fair city's finest strippers. (They obviously know what the hell they're doing...) And don't ask me how I found this waxer. I'm the wife of a newsman. I've got sources.
Speaking of the Mr. News Readin'...if he's lucky maybe I'll get a heart-shape for our anniversary...
3 hours ago