Tag Archives: waxing

Bedazzled, Bothered, and Bewildered

I recently learned a new word that I want to share with you. Let’s see if you know its proper definition.

To vajazzle is:
a. To wear bedazzled lingerie
b. To do a strip tease to jazz music
c. To decorate female private parts with bling-bling

If you immediately answered C, good for you. If like many more readers, you cringed when you read C, welcome to my original response.

Apparently, vajazzling is a new trend! It’s a take on the bedazzling phenomenon, only with girly parts. If you don’t know what bedazzling looks like, here are a few examples:

A bedazzled cap.

 

A bedazzled jacket.

 

Bedazzled nails.

 

You can also bedazzle purses, shoes, tote bags, belts, and . . . skin.

 

So imagine taking those little shiny adhesive beads and attaching them to your private area.

After discovering this word (through a writer friend), I did a bit of online research. Apparently, vajazzling has been mentioned on reality shows and by celebrities. There are websites devoted to this process and how it works. You probably have some of the same questions I did, so I’ll share what I learned.

What kind of bling-bling is used? They are “body crystals,” somewhat like the ones used on nails.

Where do the crystals go? You can put them in other places, like around your waist or on your abdomen, but for vajazzling they typically go on the clean-shaven or waxed area above the clitoris. They can be small designs or extend across the triangle shape of a woman.

What kind of sticky stuff is used? Eyelash glue and spirit gum were mentioned, as well as a resin-based glue. The adhesive used is especially for skin, although some might still have an allergic reaction to the substance if sensitive to it.

How long do they last? From what I could tell, maybe five days. Like other stick-ons, friction and moisture wear out the adhesiveness.

Do they interfere with intercourse? Because of their placement well above the vagina, they shouldn’t.

Who puts the crystals on? You can do it yourself (kits are available) or get it done professionally at a salon.

Why on earth would anyone do this??? Yes, this is the question I asked myself. So I had a nice chat with the hubster. It went a bit like this:

Me: Why would a woman want to vajazzle? Is that an appealing idea to men?

Hubs: Well, it would draw attention to the area.

Me: I thought guys were already pretty much drawn to that area. You need more?

Hubs: Well, it’s like an invitation. Like you decorated to let us know you want to have sex.

Me: You need an invitation? How big of a hint? Like should I arrange beads in the shape of an arrow? Write a message down there?

Hubs: I’m not saying I want you to do that. I just understand why some people would.

Me: [Sigh]

Seriously, I am wondering who is doing this. Because it took me a while to go for the idea of landscaping at all down there (see Trimming the Hedges). Now I’m supposed to slap on some bling-bling? I wonder if I could use the sequins from my kids’ craft projects and some Elmer’s.

One final question about vajazzling:

What about the guys? Shouldn’t husbands be decorating their man parts? Where’s the fairness here? Well, as a matter of fact, there is something called pejazzling. The husbands can get in on this trend too.

Now there’s another interesting question for the wives: Do you think your man should glam it up a bit? Get on a bit of shine? Sparkle a little?

Let me know what you think of this new trend. Have you heard of vajazzling? Have you done it? Do you think wives (and husbands) should consider it?

Trimming the Hedges

I have never waxed anything.  Probably because I’m a chicken.

Thankfully, my eyebrows have never grown together into a cartoon-villainish unibrow and I don’t have UFH – “unwanted facial hair” (as if any woman wants facial hair).  But the knowledge that sexy celebrities wax not only their faces but private areas always gave me the heebie-jeebies.   I also found it curious that a January 2010 poll on Glamour.com showed that a majority of women get their follicles pulled out from time to time.

As it turns out, in my uncharacteristic naiveté, I had completely missed the fact that several of my friends wax their nether regions as well.  I asked around and was surprised by the results of my own unscientific poll.

What got me started was an article in a magazine my sister had purchased that reported how men view the whole waxing thing.  Do they like it or not?  (I’ve tried finding the magazine to cite it but can’t!)   The results were mixed.  I was horrified at the whole prospect.  When I got home, I mentioned the article to my husband, ranting and raving about how some men actually wanted their chicks to look like prepubescent girls.  The nerve!

Then my husband spoke:  “It might be interesting.”  Gasp!

That mumbled comment of his stuck in my brain and churned around for a while.   I started researching the topic.  Why did women wax?  Was I missing something here?  I went online to chat rooms, perused beauty spa websites, watched videos of the process (really, it’s unbelievable what’s on the Internet), and asked more detailed questions of friends.  I studied the options – bikini vs. Brazilian vs. Hollywood, home waxing or a professional salon process, a plethora of products designed to lessen the inevitable pain of yanking out every last hair root in an area typically adverse to rough treatment.

Now my husband’s birthday was coming up, and I started thinking, “Well, maybe once.”  But every time I drove by the salon or picked up the phone to call, I chickened out.  Cluck, cluck!  I was terrified.  For one thing, there was the sheer pain.  I don’t care what pain-reducing product is out there:  I have seen the video, and that has got to hurt at least as bad as the twisting pinches my mother applied to her children’s upper arms when we were too loud in church.  I do not wish to repeat that sensation.  Then there were the poses you have to strike for the “esthetician” (talk about a euphemism) to reach all the areas of UPH (my abbreviation for “unwanted pubic hair”).  It seemed like a perverted rendition of Madonna’s vogueing craze.  And finally, salons described that the hair grows back differently, sparser and finer.  I had no idea before that I was attached to my triangle of hair, but I wasn’t convinced I wanted to replace my growth with a presumably new and improved version.

Unwilling, however, to abandon my idea entirely, I decided to shave instead.  Maybe to make up for wussing-out of the waxing experience, I decided to be particularly brave.  I would go Hollywood-style.  I purchased an electric razor, bikini area razors (teeny little things with a protective end so you don’t accidentally mutilate your own vagina), special bikini area shaving cream, and follow-up ointment.  I stored these things away until my husband’s birthday.

On my own personal D-day (troops are storming the beach no matter what!), my husband left for work, I dropped my kids off at school, and I pulled out all of my products.  I reviewed my plan, took stock of my supplies, and checked my nerves.  They were wound tight.

Did I mention I was chicken?!  What chicken wants to be plucked?  And what chicken plucks itself!

Hen (chicken) running

By Lilly M (Own work) via Wikimedia Commons

I trimmed the area and poured a bath.  I wielded my weapons of torture.  I began shaving.  It took a while, but nothing was irrevocably damaged or even slightly maimed.  Not a drop of blood fell, nor did I squeal a single time.

That night, I tucked myself into bed wearing frilly panties and strategically-placed gift bows.  My husband began unwrapping.  Now I will cease this part of the narrative because telling more would cross my boldface line of marital privacy.  Suffice it to say, he was happily surprised.

The next day, I had a painful rash. Oh well.

It was an interesting experience for us both, and I discovered a little more about why women wax.  Things felt…different.  Not better or worse, but definitely different.

What about other ladies out there?  Do you strip the land bare?  Keep the untamed wilderness? Or trim the hedges? That’s what one of the guys in that magazine article said:  He liked the idea that a woman would go to the trouble of doing a little landscaping for him.

(And if you men want to pipe up about this topic as well, go right ahead!)

“Let my lover come into his garden and taste its choice fruits.”

Song of Solomon 4:15

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