A Reward For Picking Up A Lady Bic

I think I’ve shaved my legs & pits 3-4 x during quarantine & it always seems like a major accomplishment. I have a vague belief I shaved my entire body 1x but that may just be wishful thinking.

In terms of ‘scaping, in case you haven’t seen this, my old pal the comedian Doug Smith created a hilarious skit Brooklyn Ball Barbers:


You need a good laugh now & I seriously think this could be an actual business-entrepreneurs out there? There are not nearly enough waxing, grooming salons, even in NYC, who cater to male genitalia & there should be. Why so much penis prejudice? Where is your all bodies are beautiful spirit?

Your next laugh comes from Mario Cantone doing impressions of how certain women would do The Vagina Monologues:


I’ll weigh in:

Margot Tenenbaum “My Vagina has had a pack of cigarettes in her for 10 years.”

Madison (Splash 1984) “My Vagina encounters shrinkage when entering the water.”

Nancy Spungen “My Vagina tries to wake up Sid so he can say something intelligible.”

Stephanie (Saturday Night Fever) “My Vagina does the hustle in silk underwear because they’re much more refined.”

Debbie Gibson “My Vagina’s renewal treatment was called The Electric Youth.”

I was watching the 1991 Richard Linklater film Slacker. Everything moves slowly along, somewhat akin to current feelings. The scene where a woman is making her menstrual cycle with cups prompted me to make mine. As someone with the Paragard IUD my thoughts/feelings/experience can be summed up with my chalk cycle list on my bathroom wall. To those who aren’t already in the know, The Paragard is known to be longer lasting, extremely effective, but-does come with a heavier period. (It always seems you gotta give something up).

And remember-*It’s not building a wall, but making a brick*

To this day I find gems from my vajazzle (see entry 6/27/2017 Vajazzle Or How I Got A Crooked Off Center Colorful Peeling Butterfly On My Vagina) On blankets, sheets. Oh fond memories!

And now finally for another fond memory, a first period story from my friend Amy Aversa:

I got my first period on Valentine’s Day, 7th grade in school. I was unprepared for this, had not had a talk with my mom on this subject prior. It was either YM or Sassy-those were the magazines I had at the time. The magazine came with some free pad samples. & that’s what I used. Those samples got me through my first period because it was the first one/so light. I didn’t end up telling my mother until March, time for next period.

I think more teen magazine should come with pad samples. How did this not become a regular thing?

May you heart stay hopeful for future waxes & may you take pride in your shaving until then.

Slacker Menstrual Cups on the green

Dialogue from Slacker

The Paragard Cycle

The Vajazzle Leave Behind!

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Bloody Mess

There’s a few items I want to compile into a blog entry, things that’ve made me notice & perhaps you as well.

1) The New Yorker ran a story in the fiction section, Cut by Catherine Lacey. I’m giving you the link as well as photos of the hard copy pages, completely unedited.


It’s relatable in that who hasn’t been there-a wound, a bump from an ingrown hair & so forth that causes embarrassment & endless over worrying. It has you in some unnamed yoga position with a hand mirror trying to view what the hell is going on down there. It has you mentally disengaged from an important conversation because you cannot stop thinking of your physical discomfort.

2) I have embarked on a new fun activity, I haven’t tailored it to perfection & I get greedy with my ideas but the world should have it-I have begun hiding individually wrapped, new, unused tampons & pads for people to find & throw them off. I can’t explain exactly why I do this. I suppose it’s a joke more for myself. If you choose to go on this journey, choose kindly where you do that. I do not suggest hiding them in a home of a couple or of someone who may be having women over-you don’t want to cause scuffles. There’s no joy in that. Single gay men’s homes are prime for this task!

3) While on the topic of ‘pons & pads, here is a photo my friend Sarah Goldberg took upon moving to Ireland. Typical photo, what every new resident takes 🙂 This is a drugstore aisle stocked with period products. She reports they are about the equivalent 90¢ US with the current exchange rate for a box of 12. Other people in the know of the cost of period products in their country-report in! I’m baffled how these could be so cheap.

4) Finally, here are a couple of screenshots. Forever ago I signed up for regular emails about paid surveys, focus groups. I have yet to do one. But recently I clicked on this one about feminine care products. I barely got into the questionnaire & was deemed unfit. Do these people know who they’re talking to?! However as I compose this I feel inspired. I’m going to create a survey of my own. Look forward to that next round!

Until then, may you be free of hard to locate injuries. May your pads be cost efficient. May you be a nymph of vulva hyjinx.

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Coal Wax To Diamond Reflection

It’s been taking me approximately 3 weeks to compose this blog entry. I’ve been running it repeatedly in my brain & I talked to three friends about it-each of a different race (keep reading & you’ll understand.)

I went to Apple Nails on the Upper East Side purely because of the name. I was already thinking up my jokes that coverup uncomfortableness.

Should I do a play on receiving a free iPhone with my wax? Or would I take the angle of getting my apple did at Apple Nails in The Big Apple?

But I don’t want to do that anymore.

I’ll relay my basics to you first.

When I’ve walked by previous times, it seemed rather busy. But that night was quieter. Maybe it was the rain. But whatever. I went in & asked the receptionist if I’d be able to get a Brazilian Wax. She had me take a seat briefly on a cushioned bench which was caving in.

The salon was staffed by all Asian women & 1 Latina woman. None of the Asian women were conversing in English. While my butt sank into the bench I wondered if the Latina woman felt lonely.

I was then ushered into a bland, tan & taupe back room. There was a wall sconce from which dust hung. More loudly than I’m accustomed to New Age music with an Asian flair played overhead. The best part-your humorous moment to get you through all of this, their food was kept in this room too. That has to be some sort of health code violation.

My waxer stayed in the room the entire time with me while I disrobed. She was a chatty one. She confirmed with me, “All off,” (though this was so not to be.) She began working with no gloves & and very small bit by bit waxing. Like a Fraggle Rock Doozer would wax.

I can tell you all about her. She is one of 9 kids-7 girls & 2 boys. Her mother is 89. She’s been married 30 years & has 2 children, a daughter & a son. Her daughter is 29 & married & lives in Chinatown. She lives in Queens. She’s originally from Hong Kong. She discussed rising rents. She complimented my tattoos. I even lifted my shirt to show her my arm tattoos. She asked me if I was going on vacation, why I was getting a wax. Once that was shot down she inquired about my love life.

Her conversation skills are up there. Her waxing skills I cannot say the same for. Besides being at a snail’s pace, I could see I had stragglers at a very quick glance-0 plucking was even introduced, back side wasn’t even offered. I can’t stand that (sit that?) That to me is even more important than doing the front. The front I can see, I can shave. But the back, I mean, you do your best in the shower but you know you’re gonna miss something. & now I’m gonna grow all uneven. Furthermore, she didn’t wipe me off, down, nothing. & no powder. Instead she put aloe vera in my hand for me to wipe on myself. It was like I was masturbating in front of her.

She stayed in the room while I dressed. She even attempted to assist me with that.

She repeatedly said over & over again what a nice lady I am. It was in the same feeling of a tween desperately trying to friend someone. Or a dog at a shelter doing all that he can to win your attention. Please like me!!!! Pick me! Pick me!

She told me a story-I emphasize story, because I do not know if it’s true, about a customer coming in for a wax & her hair was too short for the wax to cling to. Common problem. The customer complained to the manager & the esthetician was fired.

If that is true, that is not the fault of the esthetician. & the, “Love me! Love me!” now read more to me as, “Please don’t cause me to lose my job.” In other words, my waxer knew her performance was poor & she didn’t want me to complain.

& this is why it took me a lengthy time to write all of this out.

My initial emotion was sadness. I felt sad this woman old enough to be my mother is laying on thick how nice I am in an effort to keep a job that I couldn’t perform. Nor would want to. My thoughts were she shouldn’t have to worry about kissing up to me. It brought me down thinking about a woman at retirement age pumping up the charm to Upper East Side douchebags so they’d be kind to her while she waxed their rejuvenated vaginas. She’s commuting from Queens. She’s wiped. English is her second language. They should be marveled at her intelligence. She’s from Hong Kong. I’m more interested in her stories.

So again, those were the first unprocessed waves in my brain.

I then relayed this to 3 non Caucasian friends at three different occasions.

The first individual, after listening to me, just smiled with a reply of, “Alright whitey.” That the personnel working at these spaces, these are the best jobs that they will attain & they accept that. & It’s very white woman to even have these thoughts racing through my brain. I try to really mull over the thoughts of others, not make rash conclusions. & it was a light in my head. I can often be alert to white privilege moments, or thinking/acting a certain way has roots in being brought up a white American woman. This was a moment I hadn’t had that spark on my own & needed another to call me out. Nevertheless, one does need job security. & an employee shouldn’t be taken advantage of because their employer knows they need this job. Ergo, maybe this is one of those moments when it’s like, well, you have white privilege-use it for good. Work to attain job security for another whose voice may not be heard.

Then I spoke to a woman who after paying for a manicure did not receive change. That the esthetician seemed to have determined what her tip was/keep the change. The woman I discussed this with felt too awkward to request her change & felt taken advantage of. This shifted my feeling of my white privilege in said setting. I was moving towards the mental place of one needs to perform their job correctly. Taking a cultural stance here is irrelevant. I am paying my hard earned money here for a service & I expect it to be done properly. The need for job security does not diminish mind you, but if you’re not doing it right you’re not doing it right. One does have to have a certain level of accountability.

Lastly I was out to dinner with another friend & we chatted about this but it also got tied into the restaurant where we were eating. It was closing after being around for decades. That being said, the service, food, drinks, had majorly gone downhill. No matter how bleeding heart I feel for it, nostalgia alone cannot keep a business afloat. Especially with rising costs of the menu items. If this were a retail place, & the service was poor or the place was a tip, then I don’t care how long you’ve been there. I’m not going to patronize it. You need to stand by what you are offering. Otherwise you will close. You will be let go. People will turn elsewhere.

I don’t have the answers. & I may never. But I want you to know I’m thinking long & hard about this. This is the most work my brain has done over a wax.

When I sat on the Q train typing this with my briefs stuck to my sticky unwaxed ass, knowing I had some maintenance work ahead of me, I wasn’t even pissed. Because those first emotions of guilt were still with me. & when I got home & did the thorough inspection, I honestly don’t even know what I paid $42 for with an additional $10 tip. I could seriously have gotten another wax the following day.

What I felt then was I wanted to be a better writer. I don’t want to glaze over everything with humor. I want to compose what I really think. What a situation makes me process.

After this brainwork, this time, I’m still not pissed because it was a valuable learning experience.

That waxer gave me the need to be a better, more honest, further contemplating person.

I won’t be returning to Apple Nails. I will be speaking up for services rendered. I will be thinking more thoroughly about the working environment of others. & mostly, I will be giving you more raw reporting. (That’s your last wax pun intended!)

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Happy Halloween From Touch My Girl

I purchased the hair dye for your lower half-Betty. Betty comes in natural colours, a blonde kit, & fun colours. At the time of purchase, which I paid $19.00 (ok $18.99) for, I chose orange. I was reminiscing over the Sex in the City episode where Samantha dyes her pubic hair & the results as she put it were, “Bozo the Bush.” I’m adverse to red hair dye-that’s just me, so I went for the orange. Next closest thing. How serendipitous that Halloween is upon us!

As you can see in the photos, there is a bleaching step as well as of course the coloring step. & hey now-a free tattoo! You can also see in the instructions you are to use it in a “safe zone” only. Well, at this point in my life, I barely get any hair there. Wax upon wax has taken its toll. It would take till next Halloween for me to do this. I’m like a man who’s beard only comes in patchy. But I figured, also at this point in my life, I’m super tough. She’s seen it all. Off I went into dying the evidentially forbidden zone.

The amount of bleach & dye provided you could ice a small cake with. I have a difficult time imaging who needs this much. Additionally, the bleach is crazy thick. & their reusable tray for step 2, the dye-forget it. Get a container you are ok with discarding after. Myself I picked a styrofoam cup that once held coconut chutney.

I did not feel then or after any burning or discomfort with the bleach or dye. The bleach did have the typical hair bleach odor. But unlike typical hair bleach, it did absolutely nothing. No bleaching occurred from my bleaching. Maybe I got a lemon of a kit (or an orange!) Even so, I persisted on with the dying process. Step 2!

I applied liberally. I was very active during the time lapse. I took care of my pets. I boiled some eggs. Point being it was rubbing onto my skin some. & the colour from the tube was akin to blood. I’d like to add I actually had my period during this time too. But in the spirit of Halloween I felt it worked.

Ok, wash off time. The hair I did have, I really don’t think it did anything to it. My skin under it though, even after a wash, looked like iodine was applied. I think you would have greater success dying your pubes with Manic Panic or Special Effects. Within a day’s time, gladly, the iodine costume was worn away.

But! All hope was not lost-the free tattoo! As you can see in the images it was an orange sunburst. I applied it to the hairless safe zone. Memories of vajazzling resurface! It came out great. Honestly that was the best part. Of course it too was gone within a day.

I don’t want to discourage you from dressing up your bits this holiday season. Just let this blog entry be a lesson to you. Save yourself this hassle & make 2 trips- 1)To Ricky’s for some Punky Colour 2) To the quarter machine for a temporary tattoo.

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Gloria & Hugh Have A Daughter

I didn’t give much thought to Hugh Hefner in life. I’ve thumbed through a Playboy. And a Playgirl for that matter. I’d seen him on television like anyone else. But when he died is when I had any real interest.

My interest stemmed from the social media posts I’d see, one after the other, bashing him. & I’m going to make a pretty confident guess & say they were all from women I know. Now I’m curious.

I began to read the articles. I read the basic articles on his passing.


I read an article that I saw come up more than once about him being slime.


And that lead me to the two part article Gloria Steinem wrote going undercover as a Playboy Bunny.




Now Gloria Steinem I have seen speak in person. In 2015 at Brooklyn Academy of Music. And I thought she was great. And a woman I know also attended. She shared this on social media. A man we mutually know wrote a scathing comment about her.

Both of these individuals are pioneers in their work. Those who view a person’s work will have criticism no matter what. (I’ll sometimes say something to that when I see someone hesitating. I’ll tell them people will criticize you no matter what you do. So you may as well do what you want.) This expands as a pioneer. When you are one of the firsts to do what you do, you are bound to fumble. You have to. You have to make mistakes for those to come after you to learn from, and theoretically do it better. Ms. Steinem is not perfection either. And to say that, some readers would say I’m a bad feminist. But if being a good feminist means glorifying the article I posted that bashes Hugh Hefner, in which the author writes, “the sort that prefers breast implants to female intellect,” (is the author saying one can’t have both?) Then I’d prefer to be a bad feminist. I find myself being a more “bad” one every day. I refuse to get on this trend of blanket saying, “fucking men” or “mansplaining.”

That’s as serious as I’m going to get for this entry. I can have a thorough discussion with you if it pleases you. But that’s not why I wanted to do this project. Quite the opposite. I think we focus more on what divides us. I think we crucify too much and not celebrate enough. It’s so much easier to say something negative about someone than something positive. I think we need to calm down. I think we need to laugh more. If we can find humor in a situation that will only strengthen our unity. & we can work together. The feminist can be the centerfold. The person with breast implants can be the brains.

After reading Gloria Steinem’s exposé I particularly enjoyed the part where she listed all of the items the Bunnies used to stuff the chests of their costumes. And I wanted to build upon that.

My idea was to bring humor to this. & to find a way to celebrate the Playboy Bunny (thank you Mr. Hefner) and to celebrate Gloria Steinem’s research. So I did a photoshoot of the 9 listed items spilling out of the top. Thank you so much to my talented photographer Michael Brandow. I discussed this concept to another friend & she absolutely would not take these photos. I repeat-do what you want! Put your work out there! It was his suggestion we do it on a rooftop. My original plan was to shoot these waist up so I did not pack heels. But who cares. I’m always up for some additional New York City grit.

This also spun into a conversation about bra stuffing. A friend of mine said she would put marbles over her nipples held down with Bandaids to make them look larger. And her cousin would use shoulder pads to stuff. She lastly said she saw in a film a woman putting chicken cutlets! under her breasts to lift them. I would like to turn this into another project- tell me what have you used or have heard people using?

Thank you for reading all of my thought here. I hope you had a laugh as well. But if you gained a reaction, love it/hate it, then it’s all a win.

Bunny tails



Silk scarves




Maxi pads

Dry cleaner plastic

Me & Michael!

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Shobha: Just 5 More Minutes Please & Special Blog Post: Texts With Friends

I received a holiday gift certificate to Shobha, a high end chain hair removal salon from friend & someone I work for, Chandler Mills. (You know you work for awesome people when they know you do this & support you!) myshobha.com

I showed up at the Williamsburg location one evening, no appointment made. The receptionist, Orchidia, told me that they had an appointment on the books but they let it go after 3 minutes late. Which that day, that was what happened. For me I was pleased, I was getting my wax. But I think that’s a tad harsh. Have you ever taken the L train? Especially at rush hour? Someone with a punctuality award would be late.

I was given a form to fill out, similar to that of Haven Spa’s. We made small talk-they wax men at certain locations! This beckons further research.

& now it’s go time!

My esthetician’s name was Davinder. She stayed in the room the entire time I disrobed. She wore both a mask & gloves. I get it. I’m not so jazzed about people I don’t know touching me even on the shoulder when I’m fully dressed. I wouldn’t have cuntfidence going barehanded into stranger vagina either.

Shobha advertises that a Brazilian wax takes 15 minutes. Let’s start our clocks.

She gave me a wipe & got into it. We did the usual banter. Commuting, her kids, what I do for work, yadda yadda. I think a lot of the waxers choose to have these talks as in the same when you’re getting your blood drawn. Take your mind off of things.

She asked me hold a bit. Just a little bit for my bits. There was no flip over. Just jack knifing. And lo & behold, 15 minutes later, she was holding a mirror in front of her work of art. Was I satisfied? So few do that, even I, veteran vag, was a little quick with the response. At a glance she looked good. Yes, I was happy.

The best part followed-she swaddled the snatch in a thick rosewater wipe. Shobha sells them and if you get nothing else out of this I’m telling you-buy them. I don’t care what body parts you’re working with. Wipe your whole body with them. I’ve been told heroin feels like being encased in an orb of gel. These wipes will get your skin strung out.

Davinder also applied Cortisone. Good trick! Bye bye redness!

I was happy & on a high as I dressed. I tipped Davinder $20. Squared up my gift certificate with Orchidia, I still have a balance! I purchased some of those magical rosewater wipes & chatted away like I was buzzed. Skimmed on some poor waxes I’ve had, dives, amusing things I’ve been told. I brought up the story written about in an early blog entry, how an esthetician told me she was waxing a woman wearing a tampon & pulled the tampon out with the wax. Orchidia responded that their waxers would know if you had your period & they would stop at that point. C’mon people-those are what those gloves were made for! (I jest. Kind of ;))

Now-the aftermath & further home inspection.

I want so badly so stay on this high & say it was the best wax of all time. I even thought of lying to you. & quite honestly it may have been one of the best waxes if not the best. But as in life, it was not 100% perfect.

What I’m happy about/pros: There was 0 redness, dryness, itching, after at all. Not immediately or days after. To me this is more important than the cons so I’m really still very very happy.

Cons: 1) there were just a few small stragglers 2) there was a small amount of hair left at the peak of the tuchkes. I think these could have easily been remedied with tweezers & the flip over instead of the jack knife. So Shobha-it’s ok, allow yourself a 20 minute wax instead of a 15 minute one for that extra gold star. As in sleep, 5 more minutes can make all the difference.

A little bonus trivia: I told a Georgian pal about this experience. He informed me that Shoba (okay the spelling is different but pronunciation the same) means Santa.

Dear Shoba, this year I would like a stocking full of those glorious rosewater wipes!

I wrote in the last entry I wanted to start writing about more things I’d believe a reader of Touch My Girl might be interested in.

For this post the segment is, Texts With Friends.

These are all snippets of real texts between myself & some buddies. They are women & men. Some will give you a laugh. Some may make you frown. Some will give you the feels. I wanted to give you that real person connection. The, “I’ve been there.” The, If you don’t laugh you’ll cry. The, we all have these thoughts & we are all experiencing something.


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I’m Good With My Eyebrows

Before I get into the pot of wax I want to take a moment to say where this blog is going. I intend to continue writing about Brazilian waxing-its the wax that holds this blog together! But I want to write more on anything from vaginas specifically, to genitalia as a whole, to women experiences, to the human experiences in the sexual realm. You know how you’ll read one article and you’ll then be suggested another? Well writing about Brazilian waxing has brought me to new places I didn’t see before & I’m fascinated by it all. Some you may enjoy. Some you may be disgusted by. I’m merely asking questions, documenting, exploring myself. So love me, hate me, it’s all good! I’m not losing focus on Touch My Girl. I’m just letting Touch My Girl have more adventures & to bring you on them as well.

Now-let’s rip some hair off!

There is a neon sign reading, “Nails,” that pops out at you when walking on W12th Street between Greenwich Avenue & 7th Avenue.

I saw on the sign that Brazilian wax was one of the services offered so I went in on a quiet winter evening.

When I requested that, and even pointed out to the women working there on the brochure that this is something they were doing, after a quiet discussion amongst themselves I was taken to a back room. It had a pocket door & I was provided a soft bin to place my belongings in.

Soft jazz played overhead which would later roll into Asian music.

The esthetician looked at me & said, “Eyebrows, all off?” To which I furrowed my very wanting to stay eyebrows & gestured to my crotch. To which she gave an, “Oh! I see!” face.

Wearing no gloves she applied baby powder with a tongue depressor while I laid there surrounded by purple sparkly wallpaper & fake orchids. Just a different kind of tongue in a different poorly decorated room another day kind of moment!

She started waxing my stomach before moving to the one body part I actually wanted waxed. From the eyebrows offer to the belly, I didn’t know I was that hairy.

When we finally got to the vagina she would wax the same area over & over again. Either she doesn’t do this often or my hair was too short. Which it honestly was quite minimal. She would tug & tug at the same spot repeatedly. I will say she rarely asked me to hold & the backside was included. Oddly enough the wax was hotter by the bum. Was I getting sensitive or was she getting tired & not taking that extra second for wax cooling? She did not use scissors or tweezers & did baby oil at the end.

On the con, when all was said & done I did see stragglers but again I did come in with rather short hair.

At first I felt fine but later in the evening I felt a real burn. Like I needed an icepack. & days after I was really dry, flaky, post sunburn like.

$63 for the wax & $10 tip later I can report from home- eyebrows fully in tact & vaginjam covered in aloe.

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The Mayflower Docks At The Vajungle/Special Edition: Pubic Hair Oiling/& A Note On Donations For Puerto Rico

Before I begin with the wax, let me back that vagina up & discuss the party before, the special edition-Pubic Hair Oiling. A product came to my attention- Fur Oil 


A daily regiment product, to oil your pubic hair, make it softer, less ingrowns. 

Well I’m always up for an adventure & who doesn’t want to purchase a product called Fur Oil? Who doesn’t want that on their credit card statement? So I purchased a 2 week supply with the plan of oiling for 1 week and then off to a wax.

This small bottle came in the mail. I gotta tell you, if you had Earth Mother Bush, this would never make 2 weeks. 

I had so many questions.

What about after I use the bathroom & wipe? Do I need to reapply?

Will it stain my underwear?

Should I be wearing cotton underwear?

Is once a day enough?

How much is enough? 

How much it too much? (Can there ever be too much???)

Well I just went for it. An uncharted land. A wooly wilderness.

I made it part of my post morning shower routine. It includes things like toner, lotion, deodorant. And for a week it included Fur Oil. I did not reapply after a bathroom break. I did not made it a bedtime routine. I did pack it once when I stayed over someone’s home. I stayed true! 

I’m not accustomed to having hair. And with the oil added in, I felt 70s porn. I felt fancy. I felt like I was doing a dead beauty routine. Something maybe done in 1700s France. 

 Did it actually accomplish anything? I’m going to say no. Hair texture was the same and ingrown status same as well. But I like the idea of it. I also think if you believe something will work it’ll work. & it’s nice to think of yourself. I also think you could easily concoct your own Fur Oil. A little Jojoba or Almond oil, a drop or two of this and that and bang you’ve got it. There’s a project for you. Winter is coming. Get yourself a finished basement for more insulation & prepare some oil treats for it. 

So now since that undertaking was accomplished, it was time for a wax. For this waxing experience I went to May Flower Nails and Spa located at 110 West End Ave.

It was really quiet-I was the only pilgrim in the joint! One of the employees lead me to a back room. It was a lot deeper than it appeared. Similar to a vagina. The waxer stayed in the room (very warm room) while I de-pants. Soft piano music played overhead. She said, “Everything?” Which I confirmed. 

Once atop the table she placed me in frog legs position & shook baby powder over me. At 1st she was wearing a medical mask but that was almost immediately removed. Either she determined my Mayflower to be a sanitary boat or it was just too damn hot in this ship. She didn’t wear any gloves.

She asked me if I hurt. But I knew she was indicating if I’m sensitive to this, not was I hurting at the moment. I said no I’ll be fine. I asked her if people hurt a lot & she laughed a bit. She said sometimes people are just scared at first. She worked quickly starting at one side then to the other. She really got in there, pulling me apart. Like being in a gonzo porn. She gave a few blow out huffs, the kind you’d make when moving furniture. Remodeling my Mayflower.

It was a very interactive wax. I did a lot of holding, her moving my hands here and there. Being told, “you help me” and “hold here.” This was not the wax for taking notes during. No multitasking here. My nails weren’t in great shape & I wondered if looking at my hands she was judging me. But it’s probably so routine for her she doesn’t even notice. One pull she warned me would hurt a little but it did not. I actually could’ve fallen asleep. But heat makes me tired. She held up a post wax strip one time for me to view. At the dentist years ago he held up a mirror for me to see my mouth before he finished working on a crown. This was waaaaaaay less traumatizing. I think the soft piano music made the dentist experience really pop in my head. 

There was only one moment where the wax was just a little too hot & I gave the most minuscule flinch. She still picked up on that and asked if the wax was too hot. A very aware esthetician. 

When the front was done she told me to turn over. I’m always glad when backside is included & I don’t have to ask for it. I really shouldn’t praise what should automatically be included. But after so many disappointments I’m happy when I’m not laying there naked from the waist down asking a total stranger to wax my ass.

I laid on my stomach the whole time for that.

When finished she applied a baby oil like product that was in a large pump bottle that made the noise pump bottles sometimes do. It had that flair of going into unromantic or money savvy/Costco (BJs seems more appropriate) baby oil backdoor sex.

Then flipped back over. She did a little tweezing. Then BJs oiled the deck. Then a cool wipe. And a liberal dousing of baby powder again. It’s interesting how children’s products cross bridges. Baby oil and baby powder for waxes. Glue sticks for drag queens’ eyebrows.

She stayed in the room again till I was almost dressed. When I finished I tipped her $20 & then paid $52.50 at the counter. & took a complimentary mint. I was parched!

When I got home I gave a look over. I must say this was one of if not the very best waxes I’ve ever had. Only like 2 teeny stragglers & no redness! So at least there’s something to bring positivity to the name Mayflower.

A note on Puerto Rico. I don’t think I need to tell you about the words the idiot in chief said about Puerto Rico & his display of throwing paper towels. Honestly, I don’t know how he lives with himself & those in his immediate circle can stomach him. No amount of money would I be able to do that for. A lot of people getting Brazilian waxes also get periods. So my fellow waxee, or interested in my waxes, or maybe getting one yourself someday, gather up some compassion. Let’s not leave it to the humans of Puerto Rico in need of menstrual products to be wadding up Trump paper towels. Here is a list of firehouses in NYC taking menstrual products. I dropped off some earlier this week.


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Yay for Jay!

Jay Nails on 3rd Ave between 98th St. and Marine Ave in Bay Ridge I cannot say enough nice things about.  That being said, This will be a rather short entry because I don’t have any horror stories or weirdness to tell here.  I was actually treated with respect (gasp!!) The only oddball thing I could even think to say was it was winter when I went and Christmas music was playing overhead.  Listening to The Little Drummer Boy and having your pubic hair ripped off is a bit of a strange experience.  

I was complimented on my dress & on my leg tattoos.  She was very fast and used cotton strips. It was a perfect job.  $30 and I tipped the woman $20.

*As of 7/17 This place has been renamed D&J Nail Spa

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I Need Aloe……..

Queen Beauty Nails at 4 East 8th Street is not fit for a queen. The waxing room is a partition room, the walls do not reach the ceiling. I understand that but what I don’t get is the door is a glass paned door, with a curtain covering the glass. If the door was original to the place I could see that. But if you’re going to build a room for the purpose of waxing you think you’d pick a solid door.
There is a very Bob Ross painting on the wall & I noticed the light had a energy saving bulb. At least the environment was a priority to them if my vagina was not. 
She wanted to stay in the room while I undressed & I said no. She said it was ok and I said it was not ok. 
When she came back to get on with the job-and to mention it no gloves were worn yet again-she first started with the wand. I never run into this, using the wand for a Brazilian wax. And I thought, oh great, here comes an infection. Well, I doubt any bacteria could live in that wax. It was some of the hottest wax I have ever experienced. Wax from the fires of Mount Doom.  I didn’t cringe once over a pull (fabric strips were used FYI) but I cringed many times over my scalding flesh. At one point through the Beyonce & Rihanna playing my waxer had a conversation in Korean through the door & I can only imagine she was bragging about the torture going on in here.
Wooden sticks were used for the wax as she worked her way down & she only asked me to hold once, when I was flipped over (face flat down on table position). The flip over was included by the way. She worked quickly and did a little plucking at the end followed by a quick oil rub down & a liberal application of baby powder. However, when I looked down at my queen, there was more hair left than should be. I wonder why she felt her tweezing job was done & what was there was satisfactory. Actually, I guess that’s just what it was-satisfactory. Not great. Not royalty material.
Without tip it came to $31 & change.  Oh well. I’ve paid more for worse. Maybe they could change their name to Duchess Beauty & I’ll let them slide.

Update: As of June 2017 this place is now closed

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