suzanne clements

I Got A Brazilian Wax On Groupon And My Vagina Got Stuck Together

Ahhh, waxing. One of the special treasures of female hygiene.

While it's certainly up to each woman what she wants to do with her body, I have always felt like the occasional (or routine) Brazilian wax is sort of inevitable — a right of passage, if you will.

I got my first Brazilian when I was 17 years old and in Brazil (THANK YOUUUUUU), and it basically took place in what was essentially a regular lady's kitchen.

She only spoke Portuguese and kept whispering "tranquilo" to me, which was both calming and alarming.

At the time, I remember thinking it didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would, and I was surprised to learn that instead of revealing a perfect, little, plastic Barbie vagina, a hair-free vag looks like a smooshed hamburger bun turned on its side.

"Muinto linda." Very pretty.

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My second and third Brazilian waxes were sporadic over college, and I don't really remember much except, one time, a lady asked me if I "wanted the back as well," but she suggested that I'm "not very hairy and she wouldn't recommend it."

I took her word for it.

The last time I got a Brazilian wax, I bought it on Groupon for a salon in Chinatown, NYC.

Now, dear reader, you might already be catching some red flags, but me? I didn't see one flag until I arrived at the salon, and it was located above a hot bagel and salad shop.

The only reason I knew it was there was because of the orange, neon flashing sign three stories up that said "WAX MASSAGES EYEBROWS."

I kind of thought to myself that I liked all of those things and decided to trust it.

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When I got inside, it was mostly a nail salon, with one room in the back. In that room, there was one bed with what I like to refer to as meat-wrapping paper thrown across it.

A nice lady who didn't speak much English told me to "take off [my] pants and get on it." I'm pretty good at following rules and did just that.

She stood there, in the room with me, put on a face mask and turned on an oscillating fan I'm pretty sure I had in my dorm room my freshman year of college and aimed it at my free-flying lady parts.

Next to her sat a vat of hot, sticky wax and some tongue depressors that are actually used for this kind of thing.

Now, on Groupon, I bought the "Green Tea Sensitive Skin" wax.

I took care to mention this to her because the wax was NOT green like I had expected. Instead, it was a vibrant, swirling magenta color.

She paused, looked at me, looked at the wax, looked at my vagina, looked back at the wax and said, "Yeah. Green tea." And then, she put the unicorn-colored goop onto her tongue depressor.

I decided she was a professional and knew what she was doing.

What ensued for the next 10 minutes was nothing short of a physical, emotional and spiritual voyage.

I laughed, I cried, I prayed, I saw my childhood flash before my eyes.

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This teeny, tiny woman would slather on the hot wax with all the grace of a toddler eating spaghetti with their hands and pull strips of my pubic hair off at random, with seemingly no plan, no grace and no sense of direction.

I'm not an expert who owns my own "WAX MASSAGES EYEBROWS" business above a bagel and salad shop or anything, but I HAVE heard you're supposed to pull against the grain.

She positioned my legs in ways I didn't know they bent and, at one point, told me to "hold my stomach to keep it taught," which I took as an insult.

When it was all over, my lady bits were hot, swollen and sticky AF. The only way I can describe it is that I had the keen sense she missed her mark.

Before she left, she bent down and pulled open a mini fridge that magically appeared beneath the bed and threw an ice pack on my pulsing skin.

"See you at the desk," she said. Ah, God, love her. A woman of few, but poignant words.

I stood up and looked at my smooshed hamburger bun on it's side and tried to remember if I had Advil anywhere in my bag. Luckily, I was on my way to happy hour, which is the next best thing when it comes to a burning crotch.

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When I put on my pants and began to walk out, with my first step, I felt a velcro-like sensation, except it was my vagina and NOT velcro.

I realized she had waxed my vagina shut.

I felt a velcro-like sensation, except it was my vagina and NOT velcro.

I took my pants back off and sat spread eagle facing a mirror. Piece-by-magenta-colored-piece, I began to roll dry wax OFF OF MY VAGINA like Elmer's glue.

When I FINALLY got to the front desk, my eyes were watering, and I felt I had lost a little bit of my innocence.

The whole thing cost me $26 with a $5 tip, plus the $2.50 I ultimately spent on a bagel downstairs.

Sometimes, I think about the lady and what she's doing now. Is she giving someone a "WAX MASSAGE or (assuming things here) painting on their EYEBROWS"?

Today, I'm much more careful about what I order on Groupon and recently purchased some really awesome pillows that came with great reviews.

If you're looking for any other recommendations, though, maybe I'm not the best person to ask.