Star Waxing

Several years ago, I wrote a monologue about getting a Brazilian bikini wax. It was the writing piece that kicked off many things. First and foremost, it sparked my career as a writer-actress. Before that monologue, I had not performed my own writing much in public. There were a few instances here and there, but it wasn’t until I began a project called The Why Factor, a venue for female writers to have their voices heard, that I was truly able to realize my dream of performing my own work.

It also created a deeper relationship between my acting teacher and me when she directed the monologue for a showcase for her class, thereby offering me insight as to what the monologue truly represented in my life. “Christina, don’t you realize what you’ve written?” she screamed at me from the audience, after a frustrating in-class work session with the piece. “You’re saying you have a more intimate relationship with this woman who waxes your vagina than you do to your own mother! And that's so tragic!” And she was right. That was, in a nutshell, why I was writing the piece, and sometimes it takes an outside perspective to truly open your eyes to what you have created in the throes of your angst-ridden written rantings. (Thanks Susan Giosa) 

So this evening, on the eve of Thanksgiving, after coming back once again from Stella at Star Waxing Salon in Beverly Hills, I had to take a moment and reflect upon the significance of this piece of writing, because it hit me tonight mid-wax that I have been a loyal client of Stella’s for the past nine years. Stella and my ‘cucka’ (as my former roommate Jessica so fondly refers to her own Vajay) have been in a committed nine-year relationship that I can honestly say I am proud of. So I decided to blog about it.

When I initially wrote the bikini-wax monologue, the topic of the piece was my way of marveling at my ability to even follow through with a Brazilian wax. It’s incredibly painful, yes, but more important--it’s incredibly intimate. Allowing anyone—man or woman—to have that kind of access to your lady-parts is a huge leap of faith. And when that access entails letting said person spread hot wax across your outer labia, then use linen strips to rip it off—all the while conversing about life, love, and the Holidays—one can’t help but pause and reflect upon it. Just a little.

Unlike Stella my waxer and I, my mother and I are not very close. It’s unfortunate, but it’s understandable. We are like oil and water (as she says—‘we don’t mix well’.) Probably because we are both stubborn, independent, and opinionated, and we don’t know how to pull punches or be tactful. So when you put us together, someone always gets their feelings hurt. It’s usually me, because I’m the one desperate to please and she loves to find fault. My issues with intimacy are a direct result of my inability to connect with my mother, and it suddenly occurs to me that the nine years of being waxed by Stella (while both in monogamous relationships and single) is not only confirmation that I’m committed to having porn-star lady-parts even in the absence of a lover in my life, but also that I have healed a very deep and aching rift between my self and my Self. 

Tonight I laid on that table, my dress rucked up around my hips, completely open to the world and Stella’s expertise, while we chatted about my love life, my career, my future.  I was totally and completely at ease. A Russian Jew in her mid-50’s, Stella has a thick accent and enormous blue eyes that peer down at me from beneath funky-framed magnifying reading glasses. Her wax is always the right temperature. Her hands are delicate and soft. And the love that radiates from her while she’s assuring me that I will find someone special, I will be a successful actress, and “yes my Darling, seeing you is a true joy”—is the kind of love I craved from my mother but seldom received.

It’s Thanksgiving, and I know this is a strange thing to be grateful for—that the woman who administers the infamous Brazilian bikini wax (the gift that keeps on giving, FYI) is still such a huge and consistent part of my life. But I think it’s important that I share this, because I know there are a lot of women out there who have struggled to connect with their moms. I spent a long time bemoaning the lack of acceptance and gentle loving kindness I so desperately sought from my mother. And the fact is, my mother did the best she could, and did a fabulous job. Contending with the traumas and abuses she endured without therapy, coming from a generation of people who hadn’t yet discovered the importance of self-help, collective consciousness, and self-actualization, and managing to build a life for herself in a country that was not her home (she’s Vietnamese), caused my mother to create a relationship with her Self that made it difficult for her to show me unconditional love. Even if she loved me unconditionally, she didn't always demonstrate it in ways that made me feel loved. It's not always easy to express your Divine love, even when it's the underlying frequency of your hurtful actions. I understand that now, and I forgive her for it. I choose now to focus on the fact that there are people in my life who do provide unconditional love in ways I can understand and interpret. And I am grateful for even the smallest gesture of this powerful and beautiful expression of the Divine.

For those of us who have experienced traumas and injustices done to us by those we loved and cared for the most—do not give up hope. The Universe always gives us what we need. Sometimes it shows up in the most bizarre and non-traditional places. I never thought I’d receive Divine love and acceptance tonight while lying on a table spread-eagled with a Russian Jew peering down at my cucka. But I did. And I still do. And I’m totally ready for Mr. Right (wherever he may be) to swoop in, take charge, and expand upon that gratitude ;)

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!


LMP Self-Love Suggestion: Look for all the ways you are loved in your life. Not just the obvious--notice gentle reminders the Universe gives you EVERY DAY that you are special and you belong here. When someone allows you into their lane on the freeway. When someone sees you only have one item in the grocery check-out and lets you go ahead. Stumped? Not seeing that evidence so much? Guess what--give it out. You'll receive it three-fold ;)

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Star Waxing is owned and operated by Stella:
914 S. Robertson Blvd Ste 101 | Los Angeles
310.277.7131