Look out DC, my vagina looks boss!

Well, at least that's what my waxer told me. Here's the deal, I'm going on vacation next week, so I decided to book a simple bikini wax for this Sunday, just to neaten up my jazz. It's all about the maintenance, baby. I've done that kind of thing before, so I knew what to expect. I go to the salon, and this nice, older lady named Violet introduces herself as my waxer, or "esthetician" as they like to be called. To me, that's like my job title at the Gap being “Denim Expert", when in reality, I was "Jeans Folder". Anyway, back to business. Now Violet has a very, very thick accent of unknown origin, so I'm only getting about 1/3 of what she's saying. But I smile and nod a lot, so we're getting along just fine. So, she gives me the paper underpants and I show her my special purpose (hopefully there's at least one "Jerk" fan out there who gets that euphemism). She squeals and says "Oh! We're going to haveso much fun!" And I swear to god, she claps a little. I’m getting a bit nervous now, cause the only fun I want to have downstairs doesn’t involve a middle-aged woman with hot wax on a stick. Apparently, "have fun" means she’s going to wax me into next week. Now, I'm not a hairy broad, so it really wasn’t that big a deal, but damn...it hurts! I was very macho and only squeaked a couple of times during the "unpleasantness", and this just made Violet laugh. After one of the squeaks, she goes, "oh...you're so cute!". Yeah…I’m freakin’ adorable here. So, after about 10 minutes, I am done. Violet is pleased. So pleased that she announces that I have a "beautiful area" now, and that my area "looks very sexy". Which is pretty righteous, cause she sees snatch all day long, and if mine looks good, then it must look good. That's like having a gourmand tell you that fried chicekn you just served was beyond compare. Now that my goods is lookin' good, all I need is a nice gentleman to paddle my canoe. Oooo! I’m a spicy bitch!