Searching for a great lady groomer can be more challenging than selecting a gynecologist. I don’t find it uncomfortable when doctors examine my most private areas—it’s a clinical experience. Sure, instruments are used, and a nurse might observe from afar, but at least I’m covered in a paper gown. My doctor even strategically places a small sheet over my legs, creating a barrier that resembles a curtain, allowing me to avoid scrutinizing his expressions, whether they be smirks, frowns, or looks of sheer terror directed at my anatomy. Once, he even asked if he could bring interns to observe, and I thought, “Why not? The more, the merrier!”
But visiting a waxer? That’s a completely different ballgame.
Without the white coat and medical paraphernalia, the atmosphere shifts dramatically. Lying on a table, exposed from the waist down, while someone in casual attire examines your intimate areas feels far more invasive. Even if they don a pair of pink scrubs, it doesn’t change the fact that I could easily purchase my own scrubs from a nearby store. Just because I wear scrubs doesn’t mean I should be trusted with a medical procedure.
Thus, finding someone who instills comfort and trust is essential. After several attempts, I finally discovered a fantastic waxer. The pain was minimal, our conversations were enjoyable, and I barely noticed the awkwardness because we were too busy chatting and laughing to focus on the grooming.
Then came the dreaded news: she’d taken a new position. A better job. A job that didn’t involve examining my nether regions.
She was moving on to become a hairstylist, leaving my local area for the north. It felt akin to a breakup, and suddenly, I was back on the market for a new groomer, with each “first date” involving a surprisingly intimate encounter. Essentially, I was navigating a post-divorce landscape.
Last week, I tried my third “rebound” waxer, and this one was exceptionally quiet—so quiet that it was unsettling. There was no music, no chatter; just the eerie silence of a room where you could practically hear a single hair fall. That kind of awkwardness is unbearable. I thrive on conversation, laughter, and even the occasional creative exclamation when the wax is painfully ripped away.
Yet, my new waxer was not interested in engaging. To add to the discomfort, she had long hair—think Crystal Gayle or Cher in the ‘60s. You can imagine what happens when someone with long hair is waxing your intimate area: those strands end up uncomfortably close to your pubic region.
In an attempt to distract myself from these thoughts, I imagined a long-haired dude down there, but all that came to mind were Fabio and Steven Tyler, which did not help my situation. Just as I was beginning to reconcile my feelings about the experience, I panicked at the possibility of her hair getting stuck in the wax, leaving us permanently bonded in the most awkward way possible.
Throughout this ordeal, the silence was deafening. Normally, when someone is that close to your private parts, you’d prefer distractions. And in my longing for my former waxer, I missed our silly conversations and the cheesy ’70s love songs we used to sing along to.
As I lay there, gazing at the ceiling, I noticed a water stain that looked suspiciously like a vagina. I laughed and commented aloud, hoping for a chuckle in response, but there was nothing—just more silence. My old waxer would have laughed with me. She understood me, and her short hair ensured it stayed far away from my private areas.
I miss her terribly. If you happen to see her, please let her know I’m searching for her. I’ll be the one looking as if I’m smuggling a Chia Pet in my bikini bottom or possibly featured on an episode of Finding Bigfoot, with all this excess hair. If I’m at the pool and see people with binoculars, I’ll know they’re on the hunt for me.
As a little girl, I always imagined being on a TV show, perhaps something fun like Annie or a Carol Burnett-type program. I never thought it would involve my hairy situation, though. Little girls have many dreams, but this one shouldn’t be among them.
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Summary
Finding a skilled lady groomer can be a daunting task, often feeling more invasive than a medical exam. The experience is filled with awkwardness and the need for comfort and humor. After losing a trusted waxer, navigating the world of grooming can feel like dating again, complete with uncomfortable encounters and long silences. The search for a new groomer is not just about the service but also about the connection and shared laughter that can make the experience more bearable.