Once upon a time, I was given the opportunity to get my asscrack waxed. I declined politely, opting instead for what I still thought was too much hair removal — the hair on my labia.

I was, in case you’re wondering, in a waxing salon, and I had, in case you’re also wondering, requested a Brazilian wax.

But when push came to shove — or, when wax came to asshole — I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I think it mostly had to do with my aesthetician. She was a small, wiry pixie of a woman, and she seemed to almost laugh at me when I told her I wanted to keep some hair on my labia. “You do KNOW what a Brazilian is, don’t you??” I wanted to punch her in her little Tinkerbell face. Of course I KNOW, BITCH. (Is that better?! Is BITCH better??!!) I just don’t want to look like a prepubescent child.

Anyway, despite my misgivings, she refused to do the wax at all unless she could take from me what mother nature rightfully gave. I was already there, so I said “fuck it” and let her render my outers hairless, but by the time she was done I had already decided that she wasn’t going anywhere near my ‘sphinct. I picked up my pants and what was left of my dignity and hightailed it out of there, and I never went back.

But now — now things are different! The world is a different place. Everyone’s getting hair removed from everywhere, and while I know that the practice is still rife with controversy, I’m finally ready to do it, and I have my first appointment scheduled for tomorrow. YES!

Honestly, I feel a little embarrassed that as a sassy ladyblogger, I’ve never tried this most basic of modern-woman grooming. Of course I know that just as many women choose to rock a full bush as choose to rock a nude vuvla. But I’m excited for this, and I’ll tell you why…


That’s right — I am getting everything waxed, from taint to tailbone (and beyond!), succumbing to feminism’s most direct affront, letting Gloria Steinem herself down, causing the ghost of Betty Friedan to roll over in her grave, because I’m going somewhere hot for the weekend and I want to be able to hit the pool without worrying about any pubes popping out, anywhere.

Is my fiance excited? Sure. Is that a bonus? Why not. I’m not in the market to deliberately not do things he likes. But this, ladies, is about practicality. I’m doing it. I can’t wait.