Page 66 of Lost & Found

How did my hair removal compare to others? What about my lady bits? How did they stack up against the rest of the UK population? Did I look normal down there?

I never realized how little I knew about my own pussy. I’d never found a reason to take a peek before. She was always covered except during shower time.

What if it wasn’t normal looking? Would she discuss my vagina with her coworkers? Did they do that? Dear Lord, I hoped not.

I was pulled back into the harsh reality of a Brazilian wax with another mind-bending painful rip of paper. The left side was proving more painful.

“Why?” I muttered.

“What was that, luv?”

“It fucking hurts more. Why?”

“Did you want a break?”

“Please, just finish up quickly, please,” I begged, feeling lightheaded.

“I’m trying. It’s taking longer than I expected. But it’s looking so good,” she said happily, like she was proud of her work. “We’re almost done. We can do the next part one of two ways. Pull your knees up to your chest and hold them tight or on all fours?”

“All fours?”

“Yeah, doggy style.”

“Why?” I asked warily, like maybe she was trying to trick me. I should have had Tori stay with me.

“We are doing the full Brazilian, right? We need access between the cheeks.”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t know which way would be best?”

I was not going to get emotional over a few stray pieces of hair on my ass. Oh God what if it was like the front?

“If I were you, I’d opt to flip over to do the backside. You may have a harder time holding your legs up with your breast size. I promise, this doesn’t hurt nearly as bad.”

She waited for me to choose, and I once more allowed myself to disassociate and rolled over. I shook violently and prayed she would be able to do this quickly. Once more, a slab of warm wax met my skin.

And for once during this entire ordeal, she told the truth. It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as I thought it would, and it was over fast. I sighed in relief and turned over. Feeling shy, I pulled my T-shirt down to cover my now naked bits.

“We are done,” she exclaimed, throwing the last strip into the rubbish bin. “Ready to take a look?” She pulled the mirror back between my legs.

“Is that what I’m supposed to do? Is this like part of the evaluation process?” I asked stupidly.

She laughed. “Most people want to see the efforts of their pain.”

“Oh, okay, that makes sense.” I took a quick glance and was surprised. It did look different without all that hair. I smiled. “Not bad. Does it look normal?” I asked without thinking.

I wanted to smack myself in the head. What the hell kind of question was that? She once more humored me and chuckled.

“You know the saying, ‘No two snowflakes are exactly alike’? Well, the expression could just as easily refer to the vulva and vagina. But yours looks exactly how I imagined it would look.”

“What?”

“It’s a thing I do. I like to guess what the end results will be before I start. And while vaginas are unique, there are about seven different types. It’s quite educational. You should look it up later.”

“I’ll trust your word on that.” I went to hop down, and she placed a hand on my arm.

“We need some after-care cream.”

But before she did that, she took a hot, wet towel and removed any leftover wax. Then she scooped up a glob of aloe and smoothed it over my entire shaved area. Despite it all, I thanked her for the torture session. She smiled and left me alone with my now barren lady garden. Is it still considered a garden with no hair?