Prepping for Surgery – Bikini Wax

Less than two weeks until my surgery, and I’m in prep mode.  I am no longer taking my blood thinner, I cannot have any ibuprofen, I need to call the hospital today for the plan, I’ve started shaving my legs and I had a bikini wax yesterday.  Why, you ask?  (How many of you are thinking, I’m not asking!  TMI, Jess, TMI!  LOL)

I’ll tell you why.  I will have to be catheterized during surgery.  The nurse or doctor or whoever does that will need clear, clean access to my lady business for…um…insertion.  (My brother is one of my biggest fans and if he had not stopped reading after the words “Why, you ask?” I bet he’s stopped now!)  I have it on good authority that once I am under I would be unceremoniously shaved with an electrical instrument.  But not in any helpful or landscaping way – just a strip down the middle to give clear, clean access for the catheter.

Therefore, I chose to take control of how my lady business would be presented on that table and got a Brazilian wax this morning.  That’s right, Brazilian.  I had originally put the word Brazilian in this post’s title, but thought it was way too risqué so I changed it to bikini.  If you’re still reading this post, whether because you have a high shock tolerance or out of morbid curiosity, I figured you could handle Brazilian.

I’ve had Brazilian waxes before, in my mid-30s.  They weren’t too painful and made wearing a bathing suit all Summer easy-breezy.  I was pretty ignorant the 1st time I had one.  None of my friends had had one done, so I was going in blind.  I decided that it would make the esthetician’s job easier to “clean things up a bit” before my appointment, shorten up a bit.  So I took the hair clippers to myself.

When I got up on the table, the esthetician asked me what I had done to myself.  Evidently, I was not helpful.  She said there does need to be length for the wax to grab.  Lesson learned and she was able to get the job done despite my “help”.  I kept going back to her regularly, so I never got any significant length in between sessions.  Then after a couple years I stopped.  Since then, except for using a razor on the sides during swimsuit seasons, I’ve been au natural.

I don’t know if it was my au natural length, the 30+ pounds I’ve put on since my last wax or if my 40-something skin has become brittle and uber-sensitive, but today’s appointment was painful.  Not regret-I-had-it-done painful but certainly my-lady-business-does-not-need-to-be-subjected-to-that-again-thank-you-very-much painful.  The upkeep of my lady business will no longer be outsourced.

There were other differences today than from the last time I had a wax.  The 1st one was the state of my flexibility or, more to the point, the lack of it.  I was unable to contort myself easily into the necessary yoga positions in order for the esthetician to gain access.  At one point I was on my back, legs in the “butterfly” position and my knees were definitely facing more North than East and West.  God bless the esthetician, she valiantly pressed down on my knees to open me up more, but to no avail.  Phew!  If she was a muscular Swedish masseuse instead of a petite Asian esthetician, we would have heard a crack and I’d have limped out of there!

The 2nd difference was that I had to place my hands below my belly button and pull my skin up, taut.  She said, with her sweet smile, that it was easier and less painful if the skin was tight, but I think that was just code for, “Please move your belly out of the way.”  LOL

And just when I thought it was all over and she was just making sure there was no wax left and applying a tonic, she pulls out the tweezers.  Some stubborn whiskers were evidently immune to multiple passes with the wax and she decide to pluck.  I could feel that she was plucking in an area that was not going to hinder the catheter, so I stopped her right there.  These soldiers were not willing to leave their post so it was time to retreat.

Before getting off the table, however, she handed me a mirror and ask that I review her handiwork.  Oooooo kaaaaaaay…  You know the ending of Pirates of the Caibbean: Dead Man’s Chest when Captain Jack Sparrow is facing off with the Kraken and the Kraken opens its huge, red, circular mouth with rows of sharp teeth and screams at Jack?  That’s what I saw in the mirror, only my “Kraken” was mad because I’d paid someone to remove all its teeth.

As I got dressed to leave, I didn’t know if the soreness I felt was from the attack on my lady business or if my hip joints were protesting the out-of-character rotations they were put through.  But by the time I pulled out of the parking lot to head home, I was feeling back to normal.  I was not be surprised to wake up this morning with sore hip joints…

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