Once upon time, around 2004, most women had pubic hair. The idea of taking hot wax to one’s genitals was as absurd as getting a tattoo ‘there’. I was living in the UK at the time when a documentary on the ‘latest craze’ of Brazilian waxing aired on the BBC. Polish-born Otylia Roberts – one of the best hot waxers in the world according to her website – owned this waxing salon in the heart of London, just behind Oxford Circus, where she charged £50 to rip out your pubes from the root. Victoria Beckham went there which meant that every single footballer’s wife and their dog went there as well… including me.
Look, if I was gonna lay down with legs akimbo, then I wanted some Polish 57-year-old lady to do it. A lady, who, quite frankly, gave the impression that hair disgusted her. I think when it comes to this kind of thing, a ‘no muss, no fuss’ approach is best. I really like my labia, so I don’t want some fresh-out-of-beauty-school 19-year-old ripping it off with a Veet strip. Also, I was pretty young the first time I did it. 24, I think. Or 25? Can’t remember. Wait, that’s not that young, is it? Well, I felt young, okay?
The reason I did it in the first place was for my boyfriend at the time’s birthday. Oh God – I can hear the pseudo-feminists cracking their knuckles before they type a response to this column. Chill out will ya! I mean, why else would I do it? Most girls who go ‘bare down there’ did it for a man, or if not for a man, for sex in general. Don’t they? Well, that’s why I did it. And let’s just say that there were no complaints if you know what I mean. Ehrm!
I never thought I would actually do it again after that first time because the pain nearly caused me to have a rage blackout. I wanted to smear hot wax all over Otylia’s face and rip it off, leaving her with no fuzz, so her head would be as smooth as a bowling ball. But I didn’t. I just put my head back and thought of rainbows. The hot wax is almost the easy part but then there is the tweezing. Oh dear God, the tweezing. See, the wax doesn’t always nab all those errant little pubes, so the more thorough therapist likes to tweeze them out for you. Ain’t that sweet? I actually told the girl who was waxing me tonight that I actually don’t care about the randoms, and that I kinda like them so could she please shove her tweezers up her ass. But obviously not in so many words.
Yes, almost 10 years on and I have gotten waxed once a month ever since that day with Otylia. The boyfriend is long gone and now I just do it for me, because why? I really opened that proverbial can of pubes by doing this because when it grows back, it itches. Sometimes it gets so bad I literally have no shame and will just um, take care of it. But what can you do now? Nothing! That’s what. You will fall out of love with your bush, it will feel weird and old fashioned and dudes are so spoilt now, they are visibly annoyed if they are to discover you are more 1973 than 2013. But I don’t even care about that aspect anymore, they need to just count themselves lucky that they get to visit in the first place. I do it now for me because I just prefer it and I’m used to the pain and well, it’s just better. Once you go wax, you never grow back.
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