Post from: TheGloss

Post from: TheGloss

Post from: TheGloss

We always sort of suspected that Courtney applied all her eye make-up with a fork. However, we did NOT realize that she drank blueberry flavored Stoli. We  saw Courtney as more of a Bubblegum flavored girl. Oh, well. At least we learned how to use a sponge properly.

Post from: TheGloss

Post from: TheGloss

Well, it’s done, and I’m here to tell you, that was FUCKING HORRIBLE.

I’m not going to sugarcoat this. 30 minutes ago, someone poured hot wax on the pubic hair on my inner labia (inner labia pubic hair, I barely knew ye) and ripped it out by the roots. This horrible procedure was repeated several times, on both ssides of my poor, aching vagina, then again on my asscrack, which frankly, by that point, felt like a cool sip of refreshing mojito on a hot summer’s day.

I know I’m not the first person to get a Brazilian, and I’m sure I’m not the first to document it. In fact, people probably stopped documenting it about three years ago because the story had reached the point of oversaturation, which makes my tale of woe and wax either adorable in it’s retro naivete, or painfully tardy to the party. I don’t really care. Right now, as I sit on my Pilates ball to write this, my vagina stings and smarts. The aloe gel that I put on it 15 minutes ago is sticking to my underwear. And I’m sure that when I go to hit the pool tomorrow  — the entire point of this modern-day torture — I will have giant splotches of red, angry bumps, my vagina’s way of saying NO MEANS NO.

But here’s something you probably aren’t expecting me to say: I think I’m going to do it again.

The very few times in my life that I’ve had bikini waxes, the same thing always happens. I forget how hideous it is (granted — none of them have ever been as hideous as this one), and I don’t do it again for 3-5 years because I’m like, fuck THAT noise. But any waxer, as you know, will tell you it gets easier with time, and that is a theory I’ve never tested.

Why would I want to test it, you ask? Well — I want to know, living here in Southern California as I do, what it would feel like to be bikini-ready at all times (as we’ve discussed here before). What if a spontaneous invitation to the beach DIDN’T mean a frantic trip to Rite-Aid, followed by cowering in a bathroom stall hunched over my pubic area with a razor and a stick of deoderant (helps relieve razor rash) trying to get under the best lighting possible so that no stray pube went unshaved? Would it be a relief? Or do I actually not get that many spontaneous invivations to the beach?

I think I’m going to find out, ladies. So I’ll check back with you in about a month, after another 15 minutes of hot wax to the ‘gi. In the meantime, I’m off to the pool (after I blog a few more times).

Post from: TheGloss

Post from: TheGloss

The AW10 runways were abundant with looks inspired by the classic beauty of the 1960s. That means the cat-eye is this season’s must have makeup look.

Since there’s no one we trust more than MAC to show us how to create the perfect ’60s inspired look, I headed over to their studios to find out the best way to translate runway makeup into real life.

In this video, artist Fatima Thomas creates a flawless cat-eye that’s easy to recreate at home with a bit of focus. The end result is glamorous and would look perfect with a Prada knit and kitten heels. If only those were as easy to attain….

I was, in case you’re wondering, in a waxing salon, and I had, in case you’re also wondering, requested a Brazilian wax.

But when push came to shove — or, when wax came to asshole — I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I think it mostly had to do with my aesthetician. She was a small, wiry pixie of a woman, and she seemed to almost laugh at me when I told her I wanted to keep some hair on my labia. “You do KNOW what a Brazilian is, don’t you??” I wanted to punch her in her little Tinkerbell face. Of course I KNOW, BITCH. (Is that better?! Is BITCH better??!!) I just don’t want to look like a prepubescent child.

Anyway, despite my misgivings, she refused to do the wax at all unless she could take from me what mother nature rightfully gave. I was already there, so I said “fuck it” and let her render my outers hairless, but by the time she was done I had already decided that she wasn’t going anywhere near my ’sphinct. I picked up my pants and what was left of my dignity and hightailed it out of there, and I never went back.

But now — now things are different! The world is a different place. Everyone’s getting hair removed from everywhere, and while I know that the practice is still rife with controversy, I’m finally ready to do it, and I have my first appointment scheduled for tomorrow. YES!

Honestly, I feel a little embarrassed that as a sassy ladyblogger, I’ve never tried this most basic of modern-woman grooming. Of course I know that just as many women choose to rock a full bush as choose to rock a nude vuvla. But I’m excited for this, and I’ll tell you why…

Swimming.

That’s right — I am getting everything waxed, from taint to tailbone (and beyond!), succumbing to feminism’s most direct affront, letting Gloria Steinem herself down, causing the ghost of Betty Friedan to roll over in her grave, because I’m going somewhere hot for the weekend and I want to be able to hit the pool without worrying about any pubes popping out, anywhere.

Is my fiance excited? Sure. Is that a bonus? Why not. I’m not in the market to deliberately not do things he likes. But this, ladies, is about practicality. I’m doing it. I can’t wait.

Post from: TheGloss

[Via Fashionably Geek]

Post from: TheGloss