Sir Wax-a-Lot! Uncensored and Unwaxed

Get Your Wax on In Downtown Bellevue-July-Loud and About-Heija Nunn and #1 R.A.G. Gabrielle Nomura

I waxed on and on about wax in my July Loud and About column in Scene Magazine by the Bellevue Reporter.  Surprisingly a few bits didn’t make it past the editors. This shocked me because I read this original version aloud to a group of kids to measure the shock value and the only feedback I got in return was a series of nonplussed expressions and one wearily spoken response; “Okay, so now I know you hire someone to trim your pubic hair…”

What do you think? Should “Mons Pubis” have made it past the censors? You can read the edited version along with past Loud and About columns here.

Sir Wax-a-Lot

‘Round about May of each year morning shows and magazines start their annual onslaught of stories and top ten lists designed to help us get ready for “Bikini Season.”  This always cracks me up and not just because I live in Seattle.  I can agree with labeling summer “Bikini Season” simply because wearing a bikini during the rest of the year might be uncomfortably drafty or damp.  However, given the number of people who actually wear bikinis, or rather SHOULD be wearing bikinis, a better name might be “Strategic Cover Up and Calculated Skin Exposure Season.”  Despite the tiny percentage of people who can comfortably showcase their ass-ets in bits of Lycra, there is a recent proliferation of businesses devoted to waxing body hair, presumably in preparation for bikini season or other less than fully clothed pursuits.

What’s up with that? When did we get so hirsute?

For years, men and women have democratically split the body hair removal burden; Men have traditionally focused on removal and management of facial hair, nose hair and icky ear hair, while women sought smooth legs, underarms and a bikini line free of fringe.   But somewhere along the line women and men (see: manscaping) have developed an increasing hair phobia and now hair removal is big business, and honestly, a major time suck.

Two weeks ago, I noticed three Bellevue businesses specializing in hair removal, all on the same block; Blackbird Waxbar, La Petite Belle (Nails and Wax) and Helen Salon and Wax Bar. Is wax the new coffee? Are we on the verge of a bare revolution? Will Waxbucks replace Starbucks or will we start to see cheaper, faster wax franchises pop up on every corner; maybe Wax King or Wax in the Box..wait…nevermind.

I should have seen this coming.  In addition to regularly having my brows waxed by Nicole at Bellevue Gene Juarez, I trust Nadia at Gene Juarez to keep me fashionably groomed in all the other right places, which is funny because I am most definitely not prepared for bikini season in any other way.  What do I mean by “fashionably?” You’ll be happy to know I have given the matter careful thought and consideration.  My children, specifically Sistafoo, are notoriously indiscreet, so my goal with everything, from bikini waxing to wine consumption is to practice moderation so as to not stand out during comparative playground chats.  That way if Sistafoo sees me naked she will not be able to reveal any extreme secrets that might be repeated at another family’s dinner table. My goal is to neither set trends, nor lag behind.

This apparently makes me somewhat conservative.

A couple years ago I met a salon employee who specializes in permanent removal of “hair down there.” In my mind his name is Sir Wax-a-Lot. He told me he does 16 standard designs PLUS custom. Naturally, I immediately sat him down for a chat and asked if he had a portfolio, preferably one with pictures.  I was disappointed to learn that he stopped documenting his artistry after the husband of one of his happy customers whipped out a wallet size photo of his wife’s heart shaped “area” in a local bar. He went on to assure me that he takes his work very seriously and focuses on his customer’s desires over that of their friends and spouses. It required my most valiant efforts to stifle my gasps as he described the many designs he has permanently etched upon various Mons Pubis (it’s the technical term!) including homage to different hobbies, like parachuting.  I still can’t erase the image of a slowly falling parachute. After all, everything ages, right?

Except for bikini season. Bikini season never dies.

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