6.29.2013

Trilogy.



Noun:  A group of three dramatic or literary works related in subject or theme.

I have this lace Victoria Secret thong, only a few months old, which is unfortunately ripped. I won’t indulge on how the tragedy occurred. I first wore it (ripped) to my initial brazilian bikini wax a couple of months ago. I figured, why waste pretty undergarments? Plus with waxing there is always the possibility that your undies will be burned with hot wax anyways. So now it has become a tradition, and with my third wax complete, I’ve only now questioned, is wearing ripped lace to your esthetician bad etiquette?
It is said that the third time (of anything) is a charm, and in my situation, I must agree. This encounter was easy as pie, a walk in the park, no sweat; that is why my mind started wondering about things like having good manners when your legs are spread for a stranger. I realized lying on a paper covered table is never comfortable, and having to contortion your legs to the right angles makes it worse. Am I rude to not keep a conversation flowing? I feel that I can’t concentrate on a dialogue while so many other thoughts are brewing inside my head. I considered what it must be like on the opposite end of this waxing session; not that I would like to be the waxer per say, but I wonder what my vagina looked like while the process was being played out. I imagined it couldn’t be pretty. I’ve always wanted to ask a doctor or esthetician if my private parts looked normal. I mean, I’ve never had any complaints, and they look good to me, but I would want to know if I’m working with something average or above. Is that weird? I speculate over what sort of things this woman has seen. Or been requested to do for that matter; I can’t help but smile when she ask, “All off?”



Yes. All off.  
And when she leaves the room so I can dress I realize that a white pubic area looks extra naked against a tanned body.
Merde. 

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