Betsy Kramer
For those of you who think this is going to be about the Olympics or about Gisele Bundchen, consider yourselves forewarned: it is not. It is about vaginas. And if you are shocked by that or can’t possibly imagine what Brazil has to do with vaginas, you should probably stop reading right now. For the rest of you, here is the tale of my recent experience south of the border.
Last week, my laser lady, Maria, looked up from her work on my lower leg and said that she was surprised that I had not had a Brazilian. She suggested that I get started immediately. I was, to say the least, a little bit surprised. To begin with, I was kind of creeped out that Maria had given my vagina any thought. More importantly, I didn’t think people my age did that.
When I told her that I thought that I was a little bit too old for a Brazilian, she insisted that I was absolutely wrong. She said that everybody does it and that really, nobody has anything going on down there any more.
Is she right?
When I first heard about the whole Brazilian thing, I assumed it was a crazy fad for young people. Kind of like navel piercing. I figured that when they grew up, it would all grow back together. Now, though, I’m not so sure. According to Maria, EVERYONE is doing it. It’s her most popular service.
I generally don’t conform to the whims of fashion, so I was not so fast to jump on this bandwagon, but now I have a horrible feeling that people who don’t take care of things down there are this century’s version of last century’s people who didn’t shave their underarms. And lord knows, I definitely don’t want to be in that group.
The other day, I went for my regular bikini wax. Nothing dramatic – just a little off the top and sides. I showed up fifteen minutes early in the hope of doing some recon. I thought that if I sat there long enough, I could see what people were checking in for. The place was doing a brisk business (it being the weekend before Memorial Day) and sure enough, not a single customer checked in for a “regular”. Every single person was having a Brazilian. I felt like a dinosaur. Worse. I felt like a crazy old upper west side hairy hippy.
So now, I’m thinking about it. But I’m kind of worried. What if it looks totally weird? What if, when it’s bare, it looks all droopy and pathetic? I’m sort of envisioning that part of me doing what my ear lobes are doing and it’s not a pretty picture. I’m already stashing away cash for my facelift. Am I going to have to save to have that fixed, too? (I read about that in a magazine at the gym the other day).
And how am I going to explain it to my husband? I’m pretty sure the phrase “Brazilian” means nothing to him other than “awesome soccer player.” Or maybe “hot model,” but it certainly doesn’t translate into making his wife look like a five-year old. Would he think it’s totally hot model-ish, or weirdly pedophile-ish? Would I even say anything to him, or just wait and see if he even notices? If I say something, what exactly do I say?
A huge part of me wonders what the point would be. Who can even see what is going on down there? After two kids and at age fifty, the stomach sort of drapes over the whole thing, obscuring it from view.
And besides, I have bunions. Well, actually, I only have one bunion, so far, but it is a bunion, nonetheless and it seems a bit silly for a woman who is old enough to have bunions to be worrying about what her vagina looks like, because women who have bunions are probably not the kind of women who have a lot of other people looking at their vaginas.
On the other hand, being a crazy old hairy hippy is pretty much my worst nightmare.
So, ladies, what do I do? And please don’t tell me to do a test run with a wax. I’m generally pretty good with pain, but I draw the line at pouring boiling wax down there and then ripping it off. That just seems so very painful and so very wrong.