Wax On, Wax Off

October 04, 2013

Posted By: Bozemama

I have a fun new friend in my life– yay! You’d love her. Her name is Melissa; she’s witty, pragmatic, big-hearted and earthy and she calls herself the Bozeman Box Waxer . When I told my girl Hermione about Melissa in the car this morning, she looked confuzzled and asked, “What’s a box waxer?” And this is when I seized the opportunity to expand my 13-year-old’s world in one beautiful, teachable mother-daughter moment.

Now, Hermione’s no stranger to grooming and hair removal. Please, girl gets her impeccable brows groomed every few weeks and would rather drink bleach than go without her Paul Mitchell Gloss Drops. But I’m pretty sure the idea of waxing the hair down there was a new one and so I was glad to be the one to explain the concept during our morning drive to school. So what if it’s 30 degrees and snowing in the Gallatin Valley? Let’s keep it real and talk about ripping the hair out of our pubic area as the sun breaks over the mountains. Golden moments.

The best place to start the conversation is with a big, fat WHY? Why would or should one depilatate the ya ya zone? Well, the reasons are probably as varied as the women who do it: Swimsuit etiquette; professional purposes; personal preference . . . it’s all good. The point, for those who choose to groom their lady flower, is that they prefer – what a friend once referred to as – a tidy garden. For others, the conversation begins and ends with a decidedly emphatic-keep-that-hot-wax-away from-my-mother-of-all-souls HELL to the NO. And that’s OK too.

And, by the way, if you were to assume that Melissa’s clientele all fit into a similar kind of box (as it were) you’d be wrong. She is proud and happy to say that she has seen it all: young, old, fit, flabby, sexy and prudish. But these women all have one thing in common: They trust Melissa because, after nearly 20 years of experience, she’s very good at what she does. She makes what might be considered only slightly less painful than being set on fire relatively tolerable. I can tell you this firsthand, because, yes, I went to see her – and I’m here to tell you about it.

I should preface my Melissa experience with an earlier episode, which I call my “Brazilian Baptism” and which will forever go down as one of the scariest and most surreal experiences of my life (and I’ve recently gone through a divorce, so I know scary and surreal). Anyway, this was some years ago in an unsuspecting nail salon in a strip mall and it was ugly. (Note to self and anyone who will listen: Maybe don’t get your first bikini wax where nobody speaks English. Just a thought.) There was miscommunication; translators and reinforcements were brought in; consultations were given; scissors were used; tears were shed (along with some other stuff.) I still get teary just thinking about it.

So, needless to say, getting onto Melissa’s table was not easy – you could even call it an act of faith. But Melissa is totally up to the task. She respects that it hurts like hell and that you might feel a little vulnerable with your ass in her face – and she honors the intimacy and urgency of the situation by being fast, efficient and professional. She is also extremely freaking funny and can help you forget about the pain (kinda) by laughing through it. At one point, I admitted feeling a bit awkward and mumbled something about how I’d never been in such a truly weird position in front of an acquaintance before and she responded with a perfectly-timed “Well, I should hope not,” before ripping the strip of wax off my flesh. I giggled (kinda).

With a visit to the Box Waxer in mind, my pal Bunnyfufu asked her wise and wonderful lady doctor her opinion on the matter. Here’s what she said:

“It’s gonna’ be painful, but you’ve given birth, so you’ll be fine. Trim your hair before you go. The spot that hurts the most is the mons pubis , but it’s fast and it looks nice when it’s done.”

Lady doctor is smart and tells the truth (I wonder if that’s how she got through med school . . .) so you can trust what she says. Oh, and her last comment reminds me to tell you that Melissa offers styling options, including – but not limited to – the Charlie Chaplin, the Mr. T and the Willie Nelson. Tough decision, right? Just remember to pop a couple Advil and bring your sense of humor.



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