The Brazilian

I wish I was talking about a dreamy, dark-haired, mocha-skinned fellow from close to the equator. Instead, I’m talking about the life altering experience that took place in a room yesterday, as I lay with my legs in the good old butterfly position.

I had called my girlfriend the night before for some last minute guidance on what exactly happens when you are getting a Brazilian. She has had a few over the years, and I was really nervous about someone spending that much time with my vagina, who hasn’t been to medical school, nor is giving me pleasure.

I am quite sure the technician told the receptionist as soon as I left that she dreads my next appointment. I was a willing participant, I walked in happily with my print-out for 6 sessions of laser hair removal that I’m finally redeeming. And yet I acted like I was in a torture chamber once she started electrocuting my privates. It would be like going to get a tattoo and then kick and scream the whole time. Hello?!? You know that shit is going to hurt! And by the way, that is exactly what it felt like, getting a tattoo right on your bushwah.

I was doing the Lamaze breathing and every few breathes would yell fuck. My back went into spasm from tensing so incredibly much. Then the part I was exceptionally panicky about…. “Turn over and pull your butt cheeks apart.”

This was plain awkward, and I made it even more so by saying, “You must see a lot of butt holes, huh?” To which she replied, "You have no idea".

I wondered if she was in fact calling me one. But then the pain brought me back to my breathing.

Thank God it was quick. The entire thing took about 4 minutes. I can only imagine the power one must feel when they are holding a tube that is shooting a hot laser at someone else's crotch as the recipient wriggles in pain. I mean really, that takes a special person.