Beauty Uncensored: Forever Hairless

A few years ago, I read an alarming statistic in a magazine: according to the publication (which, admittedly, was not exactly known for its scientific research), three out of four American women had opted to go completely hairless “down there.”
    Three out of four?! I had never heard of such a thing! In shock over my apparent faux pas, I went straight to the drugstore and winced my way through various waxes until I finally came upon my (now discontinued, of course) miracle solution: Sally Hansen’s Painless Bikini No-Wax Hair Removal Brazilian Formula.
    It took me a few days to find the courage (not to mention the time) to use it. I won’t go into the particulars, but I will tell you that yes, it was painless. And yes, it did the job it claimed it would do on the box.
    But how on earth would I present my, um, self, to Hubs? And what if he hated it? I pondered these questions as I got ready for bed that night, and decided it would be best if I were subtly sexy.
    "So, are you sleepy?" I asked as I came into our bedroom.
    "Yes."
    "Really sleepy?"
    "I'm sleepy."
    "But are you really, really sleepy?"
    "I'm not that sleepy." Hubs seemed confused. Was this my version of a come-on? Because if it was, he sure as hell didn't want to screw things up.
    Awkwardly, I got undressed.
    He watched. Then, he did a double take. A real, honest-to-God double take. And then he ... he ...
    Laughed.
    HE LAUGHED, PEOPLE.
    So I, in turn, did what any woman would do. I yanked the sheet from the bed and covered myself, in one quick, most-embarrassing-moment-of-my-LIFE motion.
    "What???" he said, laughing helplessly. "What the ... ?"
    I feebly tried to explain.
    "Wait," he said once his laughter had subsided. "Let me investigate."
    "No!" I said, anxiously clutching my sheet around me. "Let's just pretend this never happened."
    And that’s what I’ve tried to do ever since.
    Occasionally, of course, the topic comes up among my girlfriends. When I tell them my sad tale, all of them scoff at the three-out-of-four statistic, claiming that it’s simply not possible.
    “Besides,” one of my mom friends said yesterday at my daughter’s fifth birthday party, “I’m 40 years old now. I’m sorry, but I’m not going off somewhere getting my you-know-what you-know-whatted.”
    Her words reminded me that a few years ago, a good friend of mine not only had gotten her you-know-what you-know-whatted, she had done it permanently, with laser hair removal.
    What better time than now, with a beauty column deadline staring me in the face, to get the specifics?
    My friend, who asked to be referred to as “Sally April” for the purposes of this story, told me that it took about seven treatments (at about $300 per treatment) to remove all the hair from her hoo-ha. Each treatment lasted about 45 minutes.
    The treatment process itself sounded, well, humiliating. Sally would lie down on a padded table in a private room, spread her legs, and allow a nurse to cover The Area in a cold, clear gel. Next, the nurse took what Sally says looked like a dildo with a light at the end of it, and covered each hair follicle with it for about three seconds, at which time she heard a zapping sound.
    “My best advice,” Sally concluded, “is to be sure and use the numbing cream ahead of time. Lots and lots of it. There’s an over-the-counter cream you can get, but I didn’t know about it until, like, the third treatment.”
    “But it still hurt, right?” I asked. “Even with the numbing cream?”
    “It hurt like hell, Sally said. “Oh, hell yeah, it hurts. There’s nothing pain-free about the process. It’s just miserable. But it’s totally worth it.”
    “Well, that’s why I wanted to talk to you now, three years after having it done,” I said. “Is it still all gone?”
    “I have to shave or wax every once in a while,” Sally admitted. I probably need to do a series of two to three more treatments. But I’m just not down with going through that kind of pain right now.”
    “I think what the people want to know,” I asked, in my best Katie Couric interviewer voice, “is if you didn’t shave or wax, would it look really ... crazy?”
    Sally paused. “Yes. It would.” She sighed. “It would look like I had mange.”
    We both started laughing uncontrollably.
    “OK, anything else we should all know?” I asked.
    “Well, it doesn’t work for people with blonde hair, apparently,” she said. “People who are naturally blonde, I mean.”
    “Which is, like, nobody,” I said.
    “And they said it doesn’t work for people that have gray hair.”  We were both silent for a moment, imagining how sad it was that our mothers were no longer candidates for laser hoo ha hair removal.
    We talked briefly about getting a Brazilian wax at a salon and saving a few thousand dollars. Sally had tried that first.
    “You have to get on all fours to do that,” Sally said. “And they spread your butt cheeks. It’s invasive.”
    “Oh yeah, speaking of,” I said. “You can get your butt hole waxed. Did you know that? I saw it on the list of services at a salon here in town.”
    “I don’t have a hairy butt hole,” Sally sniffed.
    “I think I’m going to end my column with that quote,” I said.
    I don’t think she believed me.

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