B is For…

B could be for Beverly, my name.

B could be for beaver, my totem animal.

B could be for blizzard, the weather conditions at my birth.

B could be for blue heron, my totem bird.

But today, B is for bikini wax.  Boys, why don’t you stop reading now and move on to something else?  This ain’t going to be sexy.

Once upon a time, I lost a bet to my boyfriend.  His Boston Red Sox won a little series against my New York Yankees.  He wanted me to go Brazilian, but as a waxing virgin, I was not ready to go all the way just yet. 

What’s a girl to do in the face of hot wax on her, shall we say, delicate parts?  Call a more experienced friend to get a blow by blow of what’s going to happen.  I called Mary.  After explaining to me what I could expect, she surprised me.

"I have a girl crush on my waxer."

"Seriously?"  Did Mary like pain?

"Seriously. I mean, she’s so nice.  I can’t explain it.  You’ll see."

I went to my salon for my pre-Thanksgiving mani-pedi.  I was going to meet Neal’s family for the first time, and I was his class reunion date. What the hell, thought I.  Why not fulfill my bet today.  I told the young woman doing my nails that I wanted a bikini wax, too.  She looked a little scared.  Crap. She went to talk to the swank older woman who ran the place.

"This will be her first time," said the swank older woman.  "I’ll show her."

"It’s my first time, too," I said.  The two women giggled, led me into the wax room.  After I changed, the older woman instructed the younger woman to hold my hand.

"Squeeze her hand if it hurts," she said.  The swank older woman was fast.  Rip, rip, rip, rip.  Done.  The younger woman held my hand and smiled at me while all that ripping was going on.  I knew what Mary meant.

When I moved to Albuquerque, I was at a loss.  I’d been faithful to my salon for years.  Where would I get my hair cut?  Who would wax me with kindness?  I made friends with another writer a year ahead of me.  She had the nicest eyebrows I’ve ever seen on a non-model.  I didn’t know if it would be pushy to ask for her waxer’s name, but I did, and she was thrilled.  See, it’s a huge compliment to be told your eyebrows are divine.  All too often, they’re not.  She loved her waxer; huge girl crush.  After my first appointment with Denise at Chez D’or, I fell in love, too. I had great eyebrows, and the bikini waxes? Practically painless.

Aren’t you just dying to know what I’ll come up with for "C"?