Everything You Wanted to Know About A Brazilian Waxing But Were Afraid to Make the Appointment...

Evan's viewpoint:

In the past fifteen to twenty years or so, trends and fashion have dictated less and less noticeable body hair. Now it’s popular to remove or trim hair from places normally no one but your partner sees. The patch of hair left at the top of the woman’s, er, lower front, has even acquired a list of names: “landing strip” “the little Hitler” or the “Playboy patch” as made famous by the centerfolds. Often, there’s nothing visible at all.

While shaving and/or trimming are the usual methods of hair removal, waxing has also become quite popular. For some, the extra cost and putting up with a half hour of pain and discomfort, more than makes up for the several weeks of not having to shave.

The land that brought us the Tonga suit has brought us the ultimate in bikini wax evolution...the Brazilian wax. What is it? Well that’s where you wax everything. The best way to describe it is, “from belly button to backside” Having your legs waxed is one thing and maybe the bikini line but…who would actually pay to expose themselves to an almost stranger and subject themselves to an hour of torture? When we published SUITE Magazine, this was one of our articles.

Our courageous Editor-In-Chief, my partner in crime, Tamara, was about to find out.

We tracked down Feather Davis who is an esthetician at an upscale spa to find out what it’s really like. Melbourne, Florida isn’t that big of a city. So this upscale full service spa is not the norm for around here. It’s got a relaxing plush atmosphere with a big saltwater aquarium and new age music in the background. This is not a typical noisy salon with fluorescent lighting and the intoxicating fumes of nail polish. They do the meet and greet thing (and yes, Feather is Ms. Davis’ real name), then they get down to business.

As Feather is explaining the procedure, I can see Tamara squirming a bit. I wanted to know if a client gave up after the first rip, and that's when I got a dirty look from Tamara. Feather let us know that most folks usually work up to the Brazilian by having other waxings done first. That's when Tamara gave me the most wicked stare since she'd not done any of these. She asked Feather, "You mean people don't go all the way the first time?"

Feather snickered. "No, they don't. It's pretty rough."

I answered, "I think I'm in trouble."

Tamara said, "I think you should give Evan a Brazilian."

Feather answered, "That's called a Boyzilian."

Tamara asked, "So what does this torture entail?"

Feather said, "Well, when doing the backside, it requires the patient to be on their knees and elbows, and they have to relax their back downward toward the table to open up the cheeks."

Now Tamara how the deer caught in the headlights look.

Feather: "When you pull one patch, people tense up...the butt cheeks slap closed. She claps her hands together. "Yep, that wax glues those cheeks right together." She laughed.

I caught Tamara glancing toward the door.

Feather: "It is funny to see people walk afterwards...like they just got off a horse.

It's 4PM now as I watch Feather lead Tamara off to the treatment room, and I ponder my fate when this appointment is over.
Tamara's side:

It all started when feature ideas for SUITE were being thrown around during dinner. After a couple of Margaritas the provision that all of SUITE's articles needed to be fresh and come from a perspective of actually being there, doing that, sounded excellent. But who could we find to actually go through with a Brazilian Wax? So there I was, nodding my head like a fool, not even realizing Evan had thrown out the hook, and I'd taken the bait.

A week later we walked into Essential Spas, the establishment of my soon to be tortuous endeavor, and approached the desk. As I look back now, Evan had been very clever about the whole ruse. And a good thing too because I have been known to hold grudges when physical pain is involved.

"I'm here for my appointment," I squeaked, turning to glare at my business partner yet again.

"Okay," the perky young receptionist answered. "Do you want a robe?"

"Huh?" I muttered, turning back to her in confusion. Robe? For what?

"Well yes," she replied just a bit too smugly. "Since you need to take your top off you might feel more comfortable that way."

My eye twitched and my stomach rolled. I had the sudden urge to hit Evan upside the head. All the while, I'm thinking...I'm here for a Brazilian, the full Monty, but I need to take my top off? Isn't that taking this Monty thing just a bit too far? Evan busted out laughing at my reaction. A minute later, he simply told the girl no robe would be needed.

We were escorted back through a building very reminiscent of ancient Rome with huge columns, hanging plants, low lighting, and for a touch of the modern, a huge circular salt water fish tank. Drinks and snacks were offered. I opted for the wine. Lots and lots of it. If I had to go through this ordeal then I very definitely needed some liquid courage. So we sat down on the cushioned settee, Evan sat back and relaxed, I sat on the edge ready to bolt.

Just a few minutes later Feather came out and we began the interview part. Every time she, or Evan, mentioned the word rip, I cringed. I politely asked that they refrain from using that term but I don't think either one of them paid me any attention. When we were finished with the interview, I stood up and followed Feather toward the back of the building, giving Evan a murderous glare over my shoulder.

Feather had me undress while she went to refill my glass of wine. I thought it rather strange that she left me alone to disrobe yet shortly she'd be seeing a very intimate view of my anatomy, but hey, who was I to complain? I'd just slug Evan once this was over. She came in and had me lay back on a table very reminiscent of a gynecologist's exam rack, which didn't make me look forward to this any more than I do my yearly torture appointments. At least the room was warm! So, I sipped the wine as she began her work. Never having been waxed before I was taken by surprise at how warm the wax was. Feather explained everything as she went along. Then I felt her tug gently on the edge of the wax as she lifted a corner. Before I knew what happened she ripped (yes, now I'm using the word).

I let out a blood-curdling scream and sat bolt upright. I heard Evan laughing all the way back in my room. Feather glanced at me and smiled. "You'll get used to it," she said.

"Nope," I uttered through clenched teeth as I felt her lift the corner of another strip, "no how, no way!"

I remember flying over the handlebars of my ten-speed bike and crashing into the asphalt. I remember missing my feet when throwing a back flip on the balance beam during a crucial gymnastics meet. I remember giving natural birth to a child I should have had by C-section. But I don't remember any of them hurting this damn much! I may have to reconsider the realism of SUITE's articles from now on, especially if I'm the one on the receiving end.

So I lay there, enduring rip after rip, chugging gulps of my wine that Feather graciously kept filled for me, and thought of all kinds of tortuous paybacks I could subject Evan to. I think I finally became numb from the pain (or was it the wine?) because as Feather traveled lower the pain was at least bearable. Then she said, "Get on your knees." Her earlier comments about this part of the torture session came back to me with all too much clarity. I could envision myself, butt cheeks glued together, waddling out of the room to Evan's awaiting guffaws. Gritting my teeth for the umpteenth time, I grumbled under my breath.

Feather told me, "You may experience shaving bumps after the first time, it's better to stick with the waxing rather than going back and forth between shaving and waxing; the second time is better."

Better than what? Hell? Let me tell you, if you've never had the distinct pleasure of hot wax being painted on your backside, you don't know what you're missing! (Insert snide voice here) But I wasn't about to clench my butt cheeks for any amount of money in the world. Not to mention the view I imagined she was getting. Not even my lover is so privy to such a sight. I gripped the sheet beneath me and held my breath. That first rip took my breath away. So much for being numb. Nevertheless, I stayed put. Although I did scream again, very loudly.

"Okay, you're all set. You can get dressed now."

I moved slowly and methodically as a tingly sensation encompassed me from waist to mid-thighs and gave her the best thank you grin I could muster. She left the room and I hopped down from the table. Bad mistake. Moved too fast. I slowed down and got dressed very gently. When I walked bow legged into the waiting area and joined up with Evan, suddenly it crossed my mind; where did I leave my horse tied up at?

~ Tamara McHatton
SUITE Magazine
July 2004