I’ve done some incredibly dopey-arsed things in my life.
One of the most ridiculous was in Bali four years ago on my first ever ‘leave the kids and hubby at home’ girls trip.
I had been looking for a present for the hubby for days to no avail. Sure, I’d found a “your wife is awesome” shirt, a Bintang singlet and a wooden penis bottle opener, but that doesn’t really say ‘thanks for telling me to go on holidays, love your work, you’re a great dad/lover/husband blah blah blah…’
Then it hit me!
I would get him the gift of a smooth, hair-free vagina. Now don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I was a hairy-goonie-goo-goo or anything, but I’d never been completely hair free.
‘Oooooh,….Now there’s something he won’t be expecting’ I thought happily to myself. Sure, he’ll expect some loving upon my return, but not from a sexy mumma who had replaced her badger with a sphinx.
So off my friend and I trotted in sunny Sanur to find a place to make my vag look…um, sphinxy? The first day-spa was booked out, the second two didn’t do waxing down there (I know, WTF right!) and the fourth one had curtains separating the massage tables and tentatively agreed to do it.
Looking back, I probably should have taken that as a sign that I definitely should leave my curls on my girl.
Narrator: but just like all of the stupid shit Fiona has done over the years, she ignored her instincts.
Off we went - me to get my foofa waxed and my friend Rosi to get a hot stone massage - right beside me - with a threadbare sheet dividing us.
I stripped my undies off, lay down on the overly worn table and waited for the beautician - I use that term very loosely - to start making me sphinxy.
Then she applied the wax....Oh. My. F*cking. God. It was so hot it was like someone had poured hot lava onto my bits.
"WHAT. THE. FAAAAAAAARK?"
I was in so much pain, I'm pretty sure my left labia majora wanted to retreat in on itself while flipping a little flap bird to her.
You see she was using wax that was far too hot and then she put down a strip of cloth so she could rip it off.
189 beads of sweat had formed into a lap pool on my top lip (on my face that is). Yup. That's what she was using on my poor little damaged Dolores - and no, Dolores is not her real name - I'm just trying to maintain her anonymity.
I had to hold my breath the second time she ripped and just kept whimpering pathetically throughout. Each time she ripped the wax off I'd yell something resembling "MOTHER F**KER" or at least that's what Rosi told me she thought it sounded like during my pathetic screaming.
Half way through I asked for a break so that I could have a beer. Now if you'd have ever told me I would a) drink a Bintang; or b) drink it while having my flaps torn apart, I would have given you my contemptuous death stare of disapproval.
I kept ripping back the curtain saying "WHAT THE FAAARK" to my neighbour Rosi and having a chuckle. I figured if I was hurting, there was no way in hell I was going to let her relax in peace and enjoy her massage.
Halfway through my lady asked me if I'd had kids and I whimpered ("yes, *sniff sniff whimper* three), to which she told me how amazing my little Dolores looked. So much so, she then called Rosi's masseuse over to have a gander.
So here I was; drinking a beer, whimpering, cussing while Dolores was being stared at by two Balinese ladies. I pulled back the curtain to tell Rosi that her masseuse was now using her massage hands to help remove dangling bits of wax. EEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!
My lady eventually went back to work alone on my stunt bits. At one stage I actually had to help by pulling apart my flaps (ermagherd) and watch her apply hot wax. Now I do understand that there are people in the world that would be turned on by having hot wax flaps, but I my friends, am definitely not one of them..
Once done, we went back to the villa and I had a shower. When I finished I stood there naked and looked in the mirror.
Was I a sexy sphinx? Ummmmmm, no. Not unless the sexy sphinx had been in a fight with Garfield on a crystal meth rage. This sphinx had burns everywhere and she looked incredibly sad.
Dolores was not really in any shape to be given as a gift. I hoped that soothing cream and the flight home would help her recuperate, but sadly, I'm afraid sitting in a 3cm wide plane chair does not do any favours for a badly burned and damaged foofa.
I got home to the spunky eager beaver hubby and thought to myself, 'Oh well, it's the thought that counts.' I pulled down my pants and said, "Surprise! Here's your present!"
"Eeeewwwww...What the hell did you do?" before rolling around in laughter.
What an ungrateful bastard.