“Here’s the thing…” – The Jawga Experience

Waxing? Oh, I dabble. By that, I mean I have summoned the courage from some dark space deep within me to walk through the doors of Jagwa, spread my legs, and endure the pain and shame every once in a while.

The gateway to Hell…

Jagwa is my salon of choice – purely because it’s £6 cheaper than the tranquil and glamorous service at Uniquely You, and that’s a lot of money to a student.

£6 makes all the difference, especially when you don’t have to skip lunch for three days to save money for Friday’s nightclub entry fee.

I will always remember my first Jagwa experience. Tracey, the Madame of the parlour, led me down into her dungeon, and noticing I was a little shy to get undressed, slurred in her Brummy accent: “I’ve seen more vaginas than you’ve had hot dinners love.”

I went from slightly shy to totally terrified in one breath. The worst aspect of the waxing room is that every wall is painted blood red, so that when you’re on your back, trying to distract yourself from the agony of the wax, all you can see is the red ceiling closing in on you. I must encourage Trace to redecorate.

My most recent Jagwa experience was quite the ride. As one of Tracey’s girls led me down the stairs, her Terrier – the latest addition to the Jagwa crew – followed us down.

Naturally I thought this must be breaking some kind of hygiene regulation so I said to the girl, “Is he allowed downstairs with us?”, to which she replied “Yeah! Come on Kingsley, there’s a good boy!”

Kingsley?!

Behind that cute face lies a black, icy heart

It got worse. After undressing in preparation for the dreaded procedure, I notice that one of my shoes was missing, thanks to Kingsley.

So after completing the humiliating task of undressing in front of Kate – Tracey’s girl – which makes me feel about 7 years old, I then had to do a semi-naked chase after the amazingly agile Kingsley around the room, before getting into a tug-of-war. Kingsley is strong for his size.

I finally get my mangled shoe, panting and red-cheeked and Kate grins at me: “Oh yeah, you’ve got to put your stuff on a high surface, out of his reach.” Cheers for the heads up, Kate.

She then proceeds to speak to Kingsley in a baby voice and tickle him while he licks her face. Is this real life?

It looks so tranquil…

What happened next was emotionally scarring to say the least, “If you could just stretch out your stomach for us there love…”

Excuse me?! I had never been asked to do this before, and I eventually came to the awful realisation that the food baby I had conceived in first year following an intense relationship with Dominos had finally caught up with me.

“There!” Yes, I exhaled, it’s finally over. I look down, thinking I really should have invested in a Hollywood – all a Brazilian gets you is an unfinished wax an an extra £5 in your pocket.

I scurry out of Jagwa, don’t look back and catch the bus home feeling relieved that I didn’t cycle – as mum had suggested after her comment referring to my bloated face. I’ll feel fortunate if I can ever walk properly again, let alone mount a bike.

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