Wedding Blog

I know, I know, y’all think I’m a horrible slacker for not updating you on my trip to Brazil. Have faith! I was waiting until I’d eased back into normal life so that I could give you the low down on whether it was worth it.

{Stop reading now if you’re related to me… or to the mister. Really.}

Let’s start with the appointment: it was no walk in the park. I’m not gonna lie. It hurt. Sometimes badly. And I never guessed that the most painful regions of the country would be the ones up north, not the less public ones farther south. {Boy, this analogy is getting murky.} Yowza. My aesthetician was fabulous, keeping the chitchat going but still making appropriate grimaces when they were warranted. Evidently many (most) women cuss up a storm, so she was surprised by my rather-low-key intake of breath. I was totally cussing inside my head. I left feeling… tender.

Some friendly hints: Do take the painkiller ahead of time. I took mine too late, but when it kicked in everything got better. Do consider moisturizing for a few days prior to minimize the impact to your skin. Do buy the recommended exfoliating glove before your appointment; you won’t want to make an extra trip afterward, I promise. Do wear comfy clothes.

Okay, so that’s the bad stuff. The good stuff:

Wow, you really can’t think about anything other than Brazil for a while. The first day I didn’t want any visitors, if you know what I mean, and I was a little red and splotchy. The second day, though, hellooooo, was I a friendly tourist! And my mister was a happy companion, let me tell you. *wiggling eyebrows*

It’s been a couple of weeks, and I wish I’d been diligent with the exfoliating because it would have helped when the grass started sprouting again. Let’s just say that the terrain in Brazil can get a little bumpy if you don’t {temporary pause in the analogy} exfoliate. And you’ll have to moisturize the less-traveled regions.

As much as I don’t really look forward to doing it again, the whole appointment took less than 20 minutes. That’s not a huge price to pay for six weeks of not mowing the lawn… or so I tell myself. Plus, I get I-love-you-so-much-I-go-through-PAIN-for-you points from the mister.

{Um, I want to address one last thing here. I was asked by a friend if it seemed strange that men seem to prefer Brazil to a more natural location, thinking that Brazilian women look… young. After taking a brief poll of men willing to answer, I was informed that it’s less about age and more about fantasies created by the adult visual industry. Thanks, Hef, sheesh. However, I can attest to the fact that playing Twister is more fun when played in Brazil, so it’s all good.}