Its not everyday (especially over the last 7 months) that I bare my girl parts. It is pretty much never (excluding childbirth) that I've been spread eagle on a table with a perfect stranger "all up in it".
today was the day I bared it all and in return spent an hour getting
hot waxed slathered on my bikini region only to have that hot wax
covered in fabric and oh so expertly RIPPED OFF by C.J. (who is an arteest
by the way). In response to this, oh so delicate, action my body
reacted naturally. I screamed and then giggled like a school girl at the
sheer horror of what was happening to my most sensitive region. Yes, I
said giggled. I think there may be something wrong with my psyche - who
giggles as they get tortured? Who? Me - that's who.
things light telling me about the strippers and S&M girls who are
her regular customers (this made me giggle even more). She suggested,
since this was my first adventure into waxing, that I start with a
bikini wax -- but me being the badass that I am said "Nope, do it all". Yeah - somehow "do it all" neglected to translate to my brain that my ass would be involved.
a while I forgot that she was tearing away at my lady land and was
enjoying our conversation - even though it was sometimes interrupted by "Ohh ho ho MY GOD - That's a good one" You know its a good one when little white lights flash behind your eyelids as you spontaneously fold into the fetal position.
mean really? Am I voluntarily laying on a table, half naked, with wax
from front to back - side to side and ever crevice in between. Yep -
All I know is
A: My husband better f$#king appreciate this effort
B: When he is done appreciating it I better be the one saying "Oh yeah -- that's a good one."