A week ago I went and got my first Brazilian wax. My friends, the Luckies, convinced me to do it, I had a coupon for 1/2 off and my husband was positively giddy at the thought. (I declared it part of his Christmas present.)
Holy crap. I mean, wow. I thought I had a high tolerance for pain. Apparently not when it comes to ripping the hairs of my nether-regions out by the roots. Twice I almost told the girl to stop, that I was done and couldn't do any more. I didn't, but I came very close. Hot wax, stinging, etc. not my idea of a good time.
The salon where I had it done was very nice. My esthetician was great, patient, personable, not too friendly, very professional. She really made the whole experience as pleasant as it truly could be. I kept apologizing for my occasional outbursts, but he assured me that it was completely fine, that I was hardly the worst, and that it was completely understandable to be surprised by the feeling, etc.
Now, my darling husband has been very appreciative ever since. He is enjoying it a lot. Only fair after the near 3-week break we had in November when his illness, my illness, and an untimely and annoying visit from Aunt Flo came sequentially, with no overlap. I made a follow up appointment for after Christmas, but wow, I'm not exactly looking forward to the experience. I'm going to give it the old college try -they say subsequent waxings are much less painful, so I'm certainly hopeful.