The inevitable thoughts every girl has when getting a wax

Officially the MOST awkward and uncomfortable 15 minutes of your life.

It’s not every day you find yourself lying spread eagle on a bed staring up at a stranger and tears running down your cheeks. Ahhhh, yes girls – the bikini wax.

You see, it’s probably not entirely normal to have hair ripped out of your nether regions every four weeks (I doubt they were doing it back when we lived in caves), but I like to consider myself a smooth operator, so it’s something I have learnt to endure – time and time again.

For me, a bikini wax, or in my case the Hollywood, is a necessity. I’m hairy. And to go more than 28 days would basically mean celibacy from then on.

Question is, how do I manage to persuade myself to go through it over and over again? Well, I try my very hardest to completely forget absolutely everything it entails. It’s like my brain has filed every waxing memory into the deepest part of my mind… That is, until I’m lying on the bench getting tortured by a woman in latex gloves.

And then, for 15 minutes, I submit my genitalia to all sorts of debauchery, all the while having a full-blown conversation in my head. Here’s how it goes…

1. ‘Stripping off from the waist down and then waiting for the therapist to come back into the room. This never gets any less weird.’

2. ‘Bend my leg how far?!’

3. ‘Why is she looking at me so weirdly? I knew it, I’m not normal?’

4. ‘Just count the ceiling tiles… One. Two. Three. OMG that wax is hot!’

5. ‘Wow, I’m so exposed. Try not to think about it, try not to think about it.’

6. ‘Why’s she bollocking me about leaving it too long, do I not seem vunerable enough already?’

7. ‘Oh God! This is getting intimate.’

8. ‘Oh great. The lips. Her fingers are between each lip. I hate when she pulls the pubes out of my… OWWW! That hurt.’

9. ‘Why the hell did I ask for a Hollywood… Again?! When will I learn my lesson. Fuck this ever again!’

10. ‘Shit! Am I due for my period?!’

11. ‘Great. Now, I’ve got the nervous sweats. Now when I get up I’m going to leave a nice outline of my body she can remember me by. Sort of like a soggy murder scene.’