So what do you talk about when someone’s tearing out your pubic hair? And every other follicle below your nostrils? And the ones inside your nostrils too? With thoroughness like that, you can be sure the conversation was thorough too.
First up, I just want to reassure all readers that there are no pics-or-it-didn’t-happen associated with this post.
Second, I should address the question, “Whyyyyyyyyyy???!”
This was just before spending three days non-stop in girly mode, and part of the weekend would involve plunging into Loch Morlich (detailed here). I figured it’d be better to wax my chest and legs at the very least, and my face too (I didn’t fancy the idea of trying to pass with five o’clock shadow in the Highlands; the last person to do that had tried overthrowing the British government in the 1740s…). Looking at the price list at Sin Waxing in Edinburgh, I figured what the hell, I might as well see what it’s like getting everything done. I mean, you only live once, right?
Sam, who also runs the place, started with my face because that’s the most difficult bit. I had the hot black gunk spread on my cheek, which she ripped off when it cooled and hardened. JESUS FUCK. But I didn’t yell; I just either grunted or hissed through clenched teeth.
Those who’ve had a waxing before will know that it’s not quite so nippy on the bony body parts (like your shins), but the fleshy and wobbly parts bring the pain.
I’d grown my beard out almost a centimetre (something I never do, even in boy-mode), and fuck me dead it was fascinating and horrific seeing the grey & white hairs with follicles sticking out of the strips of gunk. It looked like a flattened caterpillar. And it had to be done in sections all over my sideburns, jaw, chin, mouth, and neck. Ow ow ow. My face became very pink, but Sam applied Germoline (which is made of sorcery and really helps). I was glad to be rid of the beard, though.
The thing that really gave me an out-of-body experience was the nostrils. Not sure I’d do that again. I mean, removing hairs from the outside of your body is one thing, and a violent enough process as it is; removing hairs from inside your goddamn head is something else entirely. It was a sensation that put the rest of the waxing in context.
Sam has done this many hundreds of times to many hundreds of people, I’m sure, and she’s quite relaxed about seeing nekkid people – which, in itself, is kinda reassuring. I’m not a big fan of being nude in front of others, so inflicting this on myself was a big deal to get over.
Fortunately, she has a great sense of humour and we let the chat go where it led us.
What’s the deal with hairlessness? Why should it be attractive (or repulsive)? For me, I’ve never been a fan of my own body hair – I don’t see the point of it – and I guess I just have an aesthetic view similar to the Romans: I think human bodies tend to look better without. For myself, when I’ve shaved or waxed my chest and legs, I just feel somehow cleaner(?). It’s not a sex thing, it’s not a porn thing. Hell, for what it’s worth I’m not attracted to either Sean Connery or Arnold Schwarzenegger, but I reckon Arnie’s waxed chest looks better than Sean’s chest lawn. Your mileage may vary.
Apparently I was taking the pain pretty well – some customers respond a bit like Steve Carrell in The 40-Year-Old Virgin (or worse). I mentioned that I learnt not to show pain at school: an unenlightened boys-only education in the 1980s instils an ability to hide extreme physical discomfort, lest you fall victim to emotional and social pain as well. Sam was brought up in 70s/80s South Africa, and we shared tales of childhood that made us glad we were living in a modern time, and a modern place.
As an example of being in a (relatively) safe, modern, forward-thinking city, Sin Waxing seems to me like the best place to go – it also offers cosmetic services for cross-dressing and makeup too, as well as social get-togethers for anyone starting out but unsure how their immediate circle would react. Would I go along? I’m not sure – I’ve been crossdressing in public for a while, so I’d probably think in terms of reassurance or advice I could offer other crossdressers. But things are different now compared to when I started, so would I have anything to say that’s worth a damn?
I’ve mentioned a few times – even since the earliest days of this blog – that I’m probably not going to be Twist-ing forever. Sam suggested that if I was told tomorrow I’d never do my Twist thing ever again, I’d be quite sad about it surely? And yes – I would… but I wouldn’t be as sad tomorrow as I would have been five years ago, or ten years ago. A lot of the things I’ve wanted to do in cross-dressing mode, I’ve achieved (get your minds out of the gutter you filthy beasts!) – I’ve been out and about, I’ve socialised, I’ve worn casual stuff and fancy dress, I’ve found extra reasons to look after myself, I’ve occasionally helped or even inspired people. I’ve had a chance to pass on what I’ve learnt. I can look back on the past decade of this blog and know I’ve had fun. Whatever time I have left is simply a bonus (and if you’re lucky, that’s true of life in general).
Anyway, enough beating around the bush (so to speak) – for those who don’t already know, here’s what it’s like having the sack and crack waxed. The late Christopher Hitchens put it on a par with torture at Guantanamo Bay, and he volunteered to undergo waterboarding to see what it was like (out of journalistic curiosity).
Actions speak louder than words, and from the behaviour of my genitals, they were saying to me, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Seriously, why are you doing this to us? That’s it, we’re out of here!” and they retreated – scampered – back up into my body like coins trapped in the lining of a jacket. In bellybutton terms, ‘innies’, not ‘outies’. Sam compared the result to a newborn baby mouse, and honestly she wasn’t far wrong.
Modesty and pride have no place in this kind of situation.
The waxing itself was perhaps on a par with the facial waxing, pain-wise. It wasn’t that mind-buggering feeling I got from the nostril waxing, but it did give me a sharp intake of breath. The crack waxing wasn’t so bad, especially when the Germoline started working. As for my back, the last of the trifecta, I’m not quite that hirsute, so just a token rip across each shoulder and a bit on my spine was required.
And that was it: nary a follicle left from the nostrils down!
For the most part – face and body waxing – it lasted a good couple of weeks afterwards before I needed to start shaving again. Obviously, it’ll vary according to your hair type and how quickly it grows.
Would I recommend it? Well, if you’re after any kind of cosmetic service near Edinburgh, then I do strongly recommend Sin Waxing. But specifically, any part of your body you don’t intend to show others doesn’t need to be waxed if you’re wanting to go out with smooth limbs. Even if you just want to do it for yourself, there’s something oddly refreshing about getting rid of your tail feathers for a while!
Miss Twist speaks her brains 