This is the fifth time I’ve written the opening paragraph of this blog post. The problem is that there are so many things I want to say about my vagina. Should I start with how sensitive it is? That thanks to my favorite rabbit vibrator, I’ve developed a sensitivity to latex that leaves me raw, itchy and soaking, waist deep, in sitz baths for a week until my va-jay-jay returns to its normal state? I tried that as an opener, but it came across as mundane and pointless. And a little gross.
As an introduction I considered describing the vagina issues I developed when my partner and I transitioned from anal to vaginal sex and forgot to take protective measures during that frenzied, passionate moment. I wrote about the wicked bacterial and bladder infections I developed, but then I realized I didn’t want to share that with y’all because it’s embarrassing and I should have known better.
Lastly, I considered admitting hypochondria when it comes to my vagina, but then y’all would just think I’m overly paranoid. And weird. Heather calls it “The Vagina Report.” She can’t begin her day without it.
After some serious vagina searching, I decided to start with my ‘hair down there’ issues. But even then there is much to tell because not only do I have a touchy vagina, I have sensitive skin in my nether regions too. This has made hair removal over the years quite challenging. I’ve experimented with every razor, shaving cream and aftercare lotion available to mankind. I’ve tried waxing and even depilatories, but unlike Heather, I wasn’t in need of vagina bandaids for the chemical burns left behind. And yes, I’m still laughing.
Like BDSM, I didn’t jump into a Brazilian straight away. I asked questions and started out slow, taking it a little further at each appointment until I was on my knees holding my ass cheeks open. And I admit that the warm wax on my skin often made my thoughts wander off course. I liked the way it felt. A lot.
Waxing lost its appeal when ingrown hairs and blocked hair follicles became an issue. My only option at that point was to try laser treatments, the holy grail of hair removal. Let me share a little something with you about laser hair removal. When the technician says, “If you can handle a tattoo on your foot this will be a breeze,” she’s full of shit and someone needs to give her an anatomy lesson STAT. The foot and the vagina aren’t even remotely related.
I barely batted an eyelash during the first two sessions. The third, however, invoked “Holy Mary, sweet mother of Jesus Christ that hurts!” And when the technician hands you a bottle of aloe and says that you might feel like you have a mild sunburn on your cookie, she’s downplaying the magnitude of the situation to the tenth power. The tender skin of my vagina looked and felt like it was on fire. I couldn’t masturbate for days.
I have three more sessions to go and I keep telling myself that it’ll be worth it in the end. I’ll be completely hair free and have skin as smooth and flawless as a newborn’s. There will be no more distress over breakouts left behind by unforgiving blades of steel, no more wax ripping my hair out by the root after it hardens. And no more urges to pull the laser technician’s bottom lip over her head for traumatizing my sensitive snatch.