To “B” or Not to “B”

Sylvia’s been thinking about this for far too long – since summer actually. And now that the frigid temperatures have arrived along with the ice on the cove, she’s daring to dream again, especially of a warm-weather B&B. As she sits at the kitchen table with a mug of her favorite blend, a startling rap on the kitchen window brings her back to reality…

Erma: Pondering your existence again, Sylvia?

Sylvia: Oh God, no, Erma. Nothing existential about this at all.

Erma: Well, I was out front ringing the bell, but when you didn’t answer, I had a strong feeling you might be cooking something up in the kitchen. Now I realize that you were absolutely cooking something up. That coffee must be piping hot because you appear more than a a bit dewy, my friend. Dare I ask what’s on your mind?

Sylvia: Nothing. Well, that’s not true. I was just thinking about the prospect of a clean slate in a tropical locale. Promise me, Erma, no eye-rolling when I tell you what has me bemused today.

Erma: You know me, I can’t promise that, but now I’m really intrigued. Do tell, Sylvia, do tell. I’ll grab myself a mug and pour a cup.

When Sylvia met Cam little did she know that whether or not she was wearing her Spanx would be the least of her aesthetic worries. The concern that popped to the forefront quickly went from how the unbridled parts would look once they were set free of the constricting undergarment to the actual landscaping of the nether regions. Cosmopolitan, aka “Cosmo”, had long ago provided an in-depth foray into waxing and its stimulating benefits, but now Sylvia who hadn’t seen the tree through the forest in years -decades even- was curious. She thought seriously, “What would it be like to get rid of the thicket? And, if I don’t like what I see, will he?

Well, after a mentally and physically grueling appointment with her aesthetician (never mind what anyone tells you – yes, it’s painful and unpleasant, perhaps akin to how much it would smart if you were to catch the hair on your head in a Dyson vacuum cleaner; and I’m hazarding a guess and thinking for guys who haven’t manscaped in a while or ever, the pain might parallel getting kicked in the nuts with cleats), Sylvia sheepishly looks in the mirror that is handed to her. “Look, Sylvia. Prettiest pussy ever.”

Really, Sylvia? Can anything be left to the imagination at all? “To B or not to B” takes on a whole new meaning when one is staring at parts that have not been pampered and primed let alone examined by her owner in nearly three decades. Bush. Bikini. Brazilian. Bare. So, the obvious question begging to be asked (and answered) is, “Why now, Sylvia?” Much like when you deliberated over holding it in or rolling with it when faced with the Spanx dilemma, you need not agonize over something so incredibly personal. Your vagina. Your choice.

Erma, what I need to tell you and share with the other Ermas and Sylvias out there is that the process is progress. Learning to love myself, both the inner core and the outer shell, is a full-time job; and it is and should be a labor of love. There is no better time than now! It’s taken me fifty-plus years to accept myself and even give myself credit for a few things. I’ve been putting me off for a very long time. No one’s fault mind you, but now that I’ve become increasingly aware of what doesn’t bring me happiness, what doesn’t feel good, and what I don’t like, I’m all about discovering – perhaps even uncovering – that which puts a smile on my face, a spring in my step, and the ohs in “Oh, my; oh, yeah; and oh, God.”

Erma:  Who would have imagined what a woman can learn about herself from a waxing?

Sylvia: That’s just the point, Erma. You never know what you are missing until you open yourself up to new things. And by new, I just mean that everything old can feel new again. And it does. 

The benefits of waxing are so much more than not having to worry about stubble or the errant strands playing peekaboo from your bathing suit or sexy lingerie bottoms. Less is so much more in this case. Life-changing, in fact. Little did Sylvia know that the eradication of what some refer to as “vintage vag” would lead to a new lease on life. Seriously. All of you Ermas, you know a great deal and can teach us much, but trust your Sylvias when they say that if you withstand those thirty minutes of pain on the aesthetician’s table, you’ll unveil uncharted territory which just may lead to some of the greatest and most satisfying discoveries of your life.  If you’re happy visiting the same places, then that’s okay as long as you are happy; but if you are looking to be transported, you should seriously consider Option Bs.

Not that it should be the deciding factor when you decide “to B or not to B” but at the very least consider the following. Lovers and partners think that we make the decision “to b or not to b” taking into account two primary considerations: first, we may want to appreciate our natural beauty how God intended it; and second, we want to look good to ourselves and to them. Perhaps both are true. Indeed, Sylvia wanted to look good and feel good for herself and for Cam. When Sylvia met Cam, she was on the precipice of change. She was exhausted. In every way imaginable. In every way that a fifty-year old woman is when she has back-burnered herself to make everyone else’s life easier and their dreams come true. The choice to explore with Cam was uncharacteristic and unexpected; the decision to get rid of any barriers to pleasure of any kind, however, was necessary.

I have heard from a Saturday-night-filled pub of couples in the world that the difference between the Bs is much like the difference in selections on a menu. Is it appetizer or main course? Chicken or Steak? Palate cleanser in between courses or is it the bread basket that will stay on the table and be grazed upon throughout the meal?  I really don’t know. Neither did Sylvia.  Sylvia decided it wasn’t about providing a veritable smorgasbord for Cam (although his enthusiastic taste in the offerings only proved to her benefit); it was about discovering what fulfilled her and satisfied her appetite. It was about experiencing something new and exciting. Discovering what she liked instead of eliminating what she disliked. Just as some guys are only interested in the food and being full after the meal, some women – I’m venturing to say most- savor the total dining experience. For Sylvia, her choice “to B” provided her the clean slate that allowed her to enjoy, from her head to her toes, a destination that had eluded her for a very long time. It never occurred to Sylvia that the barrier to her happiness, to her finding herself, to her discovering what transported her from exhausted and people-pleasing to spontaneously sensual and satisfied would be her willingness to try something new. Sylvia’s decision “to B” was liberating and exhilarating. Inner core and outer shell, she was beginning to love it all!

Erma (pouring out the remaining coffee in her mug): Sylvia, and just think, you’ve only gotten to the Bs in the alphabet!