The thought of some random person watching me bust it wide open is not my happy place. That includes the OBGYN. I go there because I have to, not because I want to. The small talk about school and the weather, while someone sticks foreign objects up my vagina, is weird, to say the least. It's not long before I start to feel like a worn-out wife and mother of 7–"just do what you gotta do and get out of there." Walking out of that situation and voluntarily walking into another didn't make sense to me. That's why waxing was out of the question. Not to mention, I'm a plus-sized woman and my body's different. No, thank you.
"Pass the nair, please."
But as I got older, the smell of the Nair got old, along with missing patches and the rare chemical burn ( I rubbed it in one time while I was talking to my friend). Shaving was out of the question. I can barely see down there. So, on a whim, I made an appointment to the local wax city, wondering if they would talk about me because I'm fat or misjudge me.
The front desk clerk was a plus-sized, brunette white girl with a nice rock on her hand. She checked me in, complimented me on my Brahmin and introduced me to April. April walked up, asking about the pace of the current song. It was something sad and melancholy. While the clerk adjusted the station, April walked me back for a little consultation. She was warm and friendly with purple hair. Not a plussy like the first girl, but she, too, melted my insecurities unknowingly.
I told her this was my very first time, and she walked me through the process. We talked about breathing techniques and the order of services. She stepped out for a minute while I undressed from the waist down. That's a bit of an oxymoron, but I followed the protocol. I slipped out of my sweatpants and cotton panties – because all of the online tips say dress comfortable and wear cotton. Angel walked in, and I was stretched on the table with my arms wrapped around my belly–fingers intertwined. The music was slow again. FYI- Brazilian waxes call for Beyonce...just sayin'. She told me to position my legs "butterfly style" and stay there. Luckily, I'd been taking yoga, so holding that pose was nothing.
We started with the bikini line, then up the middle and back. By the time we reached my backside, April and I were the best of friends. We talked about our careers and goals, a little about each other's past and music. The pain wasn't unbearable. It honestly wasn't bad at all.
I felt supported and clean when I walked out of there. The smell of Nair is long gone, and I no longer have to hold my belly to shave. I'm for sure going back in four weeks.