I’m stunned. Actually speechless. Which, almost never happens to me. Who is the idiot, the misogynist, the really, really, terribly bored person who thought up the idea of decorating the “lady area” with bling? I’m talking about “vajazzles.” That’s the term used for paying upwards of $300 to have your already waxed lady parts subjected to being glued with Swarovski crystals, glitter etc. Have women gone insane? Have we lost our ability to say no to current trends and fads?
This happens when I’m still not over the whole “down under” waxing. First, it was just the bikini trim so nothing peaked out of your swimsuit then we leap to the Brazilian wax which is definitely “No Hair Left Behind” anywhere. It’s excruciatingly painful, embarrassing and expensive (because the poor soul who has to do this all day deserves the big bucks). Plus, the maintenance for keeping your nether regions smooth is intense. Hair grows and it seems to grow faster below the equator. So, I’m still traumatized by the need to be hairless and then this bejeweling trend takes off.
Thank you Hollywood celebrities for gushing over the joys of having a lady area “that shines like a disco ball.” I’ve got a couple of thoughts here. First, umm do you really need to shine like a disco ball down there. Any self-respecting hetro dude can find that area without illumination or any additional ornamentation. He’s born with a built-in radar system that will lead him right to it.
Next, I’m thinking in terms of romance wouldn’t all that bling get in the way. I’m talking about some serious glitter chaffing and/or crystal burns. Also, on my mind is the pain factor. You’ve already subjected your delicates to a complete waxing, then someone applies glue, that’s right glue, to your newly smooth surface and starts attaching jewelry. Then once all your bling goes bye, bye from wear and tear (I’m told it lasts about five days) your left with glue residue to pick off your lady business.
Let’s not forget the itch factor. Vajazzlers say it’s high, as in hands down your pants, scratching like you’ve got poison ivy on your privates high. And wouldn’t it affect the way your pants fit? There’s the rub – literally. It’s recommended you don’t wear panties when you get a vajazzle. The friction between your underwear and the bling affects the staying power of your downstairs decor. In fact, the literature I read suggest skirts or dresses to keep your vajazzle intact. Skirts and dresses without underwear – not in this lifetime or the next.
In the sanitary department it’s recommended you refrain from washing your family jewels. Now, that’s just wrong. The cost of bedazzling also ticks me off. I know it’s none of my business how people spend their own money. But, a couple of hundred dollars for five days of sparkle. Ridiculous. If you have this much time and money to spend pondering your privates than perhaps you need to make yourself useful by either donating to charity or doing some volunteer work.
Come on ladies, smarten up! We need to stand up to fashion torture disguised as a trend. I’ll tell you what, when it’s a common practice for men to wax and glue costume jewelry on their twig and berries then maybe I’ll consider encrusting my crotch with crystals.
Hey, Snarky friends please re-like my page on Facebook. I got hacked and had to start my page from scratch. Thanks! Click on the FB icon located at the top right hand of blog and let your friends know that Snarky is back.
**For more Snarky check out my book Snarky in the Suburbs Back to School.
Here’s a little ditty about it: The Spring Creek Elementary School PTA board (a coven of Mean Moms dressed in Uggs, yoga pants, and dermal filler) is up to no good. Wynn Butler (middle-aged, uncool, and not bringing sexy back) is determined to find out what’s going on. With help from her two kids, a Roomba vacuum turned mobile surveillance drone, and a few good friends, Wynn launches a covert investigation that leads to the “mother of all revenge capers” at the school’s annual Fall Festival. If you’ve ever fantasized about smoke bombing the idiot parent who has yet to master the fine art of the school drop-off lane, or standing up and shouting, “Liar, liar, Botox on fire” during a PTA meeting, then this delicious tale of payback is for you.