"My first ever brazilian wax."

It’s a fair to say that I’m a late adopter. Here I stand closer to 40 than 30 and I’ve never (EVER) had a wax job. Nope, that’s right, not one hair follicle as been systematically ripped from my body via the hot wax method. Well, wait, it ‘hadn’t’ been. Up until today that is…

Today, not only did I pop my waxing cherry, I went as far down the waxing road as possible. Yes, that’s right, I had a Brazilian wax.

Now I need to qualify myself from the outset, I’ve given birth to three children, vaginally. I know all about loss of dignity and pain, yet walking into that salon yesterday, I need to tell you; I was so terrified of the unknown that labour suddenly seemed like a cakewalk.

5 things ever waxer wishes you would stop doing

It probably didn’t help that the beautician greeted me at the front desk on arrival with one (latex gloved) hand in the hair pinching what was clearly pubic hair. I can only think that this is akin to seeing your surgeon holding a bloody scalpel when you’re about to go under the knife.

She told me to take a seat, that she wouldn’t me a “mo”.

As I waited in the tiny waiting room I could hear what appeared to be small talk peppered with harsh ripping sounds and wincing in thinly veiled “procedure room” and I’ve got to tell you, it took all of my will power not to run. Smooth lady garden be damned – those noises weren’t natural.

Should there be an age limit for brazillians?

Plus, I mean, I’ve gotten this far in life with my 1970s ignorant bush bliss, and seeing as no one is going to see it anyway, what really was the point? As my mind was running through this process, my name was called.

Now, I’m sure every salon is different but this is for those of you who are contemplating a “downstairs wax” or are just curious as to the procedure, I mean, aside from the obvious. So here I offer you my smooth investigate journalism and bald-faced naivety as I embark upon this journey….

I was directed into a small room with a bed, similar to a massage table, where two pieces of squared hand towel were placed, presumably for my arse. Firstly, I was directed to take off my knickers (and as I’d handily worn a skirt, that was the extent of my directions) and then she gave me a minute and thoughtfully left the room. I felt relieved with my main thought being – I wasn’t going to be completely naked! Sure, this was an irrational fear but I knew NOTHING about how this was going to go down. As it turns out, that was only a temporary reprieve.

This story is proof that you should leave waxing to the professionals …

When my beautician, let’s call her Breanna (for that indeed was her name), came back in, she instructed me to pull my skirt back up onto my stomach, bring my legs up and to “casually” flop my knees to the side, i.e. pap smear style. Which is all well and good, except oh wait NO it’s not. All women universally acknowledge that this position is the most uncomfortable position in the world. Plus, I wasn’t exactly looking my best down there if you catch my drift (think: South American Jungle)

The beautiful thing being of course is that Breanna, who had clearly seen this kind of atrocity A THOUSAND times before, merely shrugged her shoulders and turned around to check the slow cooker which appeared to be heating her/my hot wax. Not only that, she was quick to tell me that I was looking ‘pretty tight down there’. Comforting.

Breanna went to work with her small wooden paddle pop sticks and hot yellow wax. Slathering it upon my nether regions with determination and expertise. She went on to small talk me with absolutely no segues and without skipping a beat, told me to “hold on to my vaginal lips tightly to reduce follicle bleeding.”

Dear blokes, this is definitely, definitely not hot.

So in a nutshell, it went like this. Breanna placed a fair bit of hot wax over ALL of the areas of my bikini area, including, yes, my butthole. It was hot(ish) but did not burn me and apart from two instances where she told me to take a sharp breath in, I can honestly say, it was without pain. It’s uncomfortable, yes, it’s a little demoralizing, (especially when she has you lay on your side so she can, you know, get to the harder to reach areas) but apart from that, 15 minutes later, I was walking out the door with some grave advice to invest in tea tree wash and not to run in this heat to avoid infection but I am certain that Breanna and I will not only meet again, I’ll be looking her in the eye and discussing her upcoming trip to the Morning Peninsula. Something I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do when I first walked in.

Would I recommend it? I guess so, if that’s what you want, but as a mature woman, I question why any man would demand it of their partner. Women are meant to have pubic hair, albeit trimmed and neat. It is definitely easier to maintain but I’m not sure if it’s a long-term commitment for me. Many others have told me about laser treatments which removes the hair forever but as one very wise friend said to me, “I’m not sure I want to be hairless down there when I’m an old woman”.

How about you? How do you like it down there?