It’s done. I am waxed and smooth. I have a hairless back, like a dolphin. I have a hairless bum, like a Venezuelan supermodel. And I have hairless testicles, like a seven-year-old child.
By the way, if you’re not a fan of “Too Much Information”, don’t read on. Actually, should I start every blogpost with that warning?
Anyway, before the wax job, I went for a swim to calm myself, and to have a last-chance wash, because I’m not allowed have a shower for 24 hours after the waxing. I had been warned to take painkillers in advance – two people had recommended “Feminax”, which is apparently something women take for their period. I had every intention of doing so, in spite of my lack of lady-parts, but then I completely forgot and went into the salon completely unmedicated.
First of all, I undressed, taking off my socks too, because I’m just that classy. Then I climbed on the treatment table. He spread a towel over my bottom just because, and set to work on my back. He worked quickly and chatted happily. There was a lot of hair on my back and it does really sting when he’s ripping it off, but it was nothing as painful as people tell you. He was very thorough. He went over some patches more than once. He did my sides. He did my upper arms and shoulders.
By the time he got to my bum, I wasn’t anything as nervous. And for my bum-cheeks, it was no different from my back really. But then it was crack time.
I had to get on my knees on the table and bend forward, and lean on one hand, while with the other hand I had to pull my butt-cheek out to help him. It was a less than graceful position. The studio has two large mirrors and I was able to watch myself at this point but I chose not to, because I’m not a complete masochist.
I like the feeling of wax. It’s warm and soothing, and, to be honest, I quite enjoyed parts of the back-waxing experience. However, when the nice man smeared wax on my crack, it started rolling INTO my arsehole. I said “Oooh!” in a fairly high-pitched fashion and the waxing man said that it’s perfectly normal to feel funny when some wax goes “inside”. He continued smearing wax on the area and asked me “How often do you get down to Cork to see your family?” There I was, bollock-naked, on a table, spreading my arsecheeks, hot wax rolling up my bumhole, a man touching me between the cheeks, AND HE ASKS ME ABOUT MY PARENTS. There are no words for how weird this was.
At this stage, all my initial confidence was gone. The nice man asked me to turn over. Even though I’d already trimmed the pubic area, he got out a hair trimmer and did it again. This part was really strange for me.
Then he started telling me a story about the first time he’d had his testicles waxed and how he’d got an erection and it was perfectly normal. I wasn’t sure why he was telling me this. I was far, far, far too nervous to get hard. He said some men get hard, and others do the opposite when they get nervous. Oh my God, how embarrassing. My penis had shrunk, and not just bunched up like it does if it gets cold, no, it had retracted into my body, more or less, up to my lungs. Oh the shame! He told me that this might make it a bit tricky to get the hair on the side of my penis.
“Fine”, I squeaked. What else could I say? This part was excruciatingly embarrassing. Whenever he ripped off another strip, I had to struggle not to clamp my knees together like a nun on a windy day, and at least once, he had to push my knees apart gently.
And he did manage to get all the hair in the end. After a bit of coaxing.
He then smeared some kind of antiseptic moisturising cream all over me. It felt nice, but it also felt a bit like he was basting a turkey for the Christmas dinner.
At the end, the buzzer went. Another client was waiting. He said, “I wouldn’t usually take this long, but it was your first time, and I could tell you were nervous, so I went a bit slower at the end.” Of course he could tell I was nervous. My penis had disappeared!
Before I got dressed, he encouraged me to have a good look at myself in the mirror to check that he’d got all the hair and that I was happy with the job. That was almost as nerve-wracking as what had gone before. Standing naked in front of a full length-mirror in a room in the heart of Dublin, inspecting your testicles, while someone looks on, watching you looking at your balls is not something I’ve ever thought I’d do.
This all happened almost four hours ago and there’s still adrenaline rushing around my body. I’m buzzing. I’ll have a more sober opinion tomorrow no doubt, but right now I’m over the moon that I did it and I want to do it again and again.