Dana Dangerous

Dana Dangerous
Location
California, USA
Birthday
April 04
Bio
Dana Dangerous is a six-foot, blonde, busty, liberal, lesbian lawyer, just like everyone else in L.A. *** One morning in 1973, she awoke on a park bench in a strange city, with no shoes. Finding herself in Southern California, she wandered the beaches of Santa Monica surviving on fish entrails and eeking out a meager living selling caricatures of Republican political figures, which she carved from tar balls that washed ashore from the many nearby offshore oil rigs. *** Ms. Dangerous got her start in politics when she landed a job as personal dominatrix to G. Gordon Liddy. That served as a springboard to her career in show business, and for the following six years, Ms. Dangerous could be seen performing eight shows a week in the back room of the Hwy 69 Truck Stop in Petaluma, California. It was there, during one of her midnight binge-and-purge sessions, that she developed her famous theories in socio-political philosophy. *** Currently, Ms. Dangerous spends her days jetting around the globe in wild shopping sprees and trying to avoid the many paparazzi who constantly pursue her. A major motion picture about her life is currently in production and scheduled for a Christmas release, starring Angelina Jolie as Dana and Danny DeVito as her longtime illicit lover, Squeaky. *** Commanding annual blog earnings well into eight figures, Ms. Dangerous has the commercial clout to write her own biographies which appear, unedited, in prestigious publications around the world.

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Salon.com
Editor’s Pick
SEPTEMBER 15, 2008 11:55PM

My Big Brazilian Bikini Wax Adventure

Rate: 20 Flag

http://images.askmen.com/blogs/sex/brazilian-waxes.jpg

And now for a brief interlude from politics. 

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip!!!!

That, Dear Readers, is the soothing sound of smoothness in the girliest of all girl parts.  Mm, hmmm.  Of course, that smoothness follows a slight burning sensation.  And a little redness.  Maybe even a day or two of swelling.  And goddess help you if you are allergic to the wax they use.

But, mmmmmmmmmmmmmm, smooth!  Go ahead and feel.  Amazingly soft, isn't it?  I'll bet you won't be able to stop touching it.  (I know I couldn't.)

I had my very firstest ever Brazilian bikini wax  this summer.  I did it at the urging of my girlfriend, the lovely Lady T, who -- though she is as butch as butch can be -- enjoys getting them herself, for some reason.

Here in California, all nail salons (that's where they do the waxing, boys) are staffed by Vietnamese women, who mercifully adopt American names.  My Mistress of Torture had chosen the deceptively kind-sounding name of "Lisa."  Tiny, cute little Lisa, who smiles a lot and weighs about the same as one of my thighs.

Lisa loves ripping hair from hoo-hahs.  And she gets every last one, from stem to stern.

Men, are you wondering what it's like?  Okay, imagine being captured by the Viet Cong and interrogated.  You are brought into a small dark room, where you are made to disrobe.  A cackling soldier, a madman most certainly, spreads hot sticky wax all over your sack and crack, then mushes a cloth into the warm wax, keeping one end of the cloth in his hand.

"Give us the location of your ship!" an officer bellows at you from somewhere behind you, unseen, as a bare, dim light bulb swings above, and shadows careen wildly around the room, exaggerating every line and shadow.

"I'll never talk!" you boldly declare between clenched teeth.

A slow grin spreads over your torturer's face.  He looks for a sign of approval and, getting it, makes his move.

 RIIIIIIP!!!!

"Arrrrrgggggghhhhh!!!"  You double over in pain so terrible you know you can't survive another one of those.

"Give us the location of your ship!" the officer screams into your ear while you try to regain the ability to breathe.

"I'll never tell," you stammer in a hoarse whisper, certain that you will crumble and give him anything he wants the next time he asks.  And the torturer approaches again . . .

Guys, I've got news for you.  A Brazilian bikini wax  is nothing like that.

Really.

Try it and see.

Oh, the first one is a little dicey.  You're nervous, but it's okay, who wouldn't be?  A complete stranger is manipulating your body and your most private parts as if she owns them.  She is not at all shy about it, either.  When Lisa first did it to me, I thought I would die of embarrassment.  And I even hinted at it.

"You pain?" she asked after the first waxing strip, feigning concern.

"No, no," I said.  "Just a little embarrassed."

Her response was swift and severe, and surprised me.

"Embarrassed!?  What embarrassed!!?  No embarrassed!!  NO EMBARRASSED!!!" I was sure she screamed at the top of her lungs and was about to smack me.  Then with a friendly little smile, "Okay?"

"Uh, okay," I said, suspecting that if I gave any other answer the door would fling open and twenty Vietnamese women with bats and clubs would burst throught the little door and bludgeon me.

And then she returned to her methodical work.  Lisa waxed every curve, every crevice, every part that had been previously touched only by lovers and doctors, and even a few parts I didn't think anyone had ever touched.  And  when she was done . . .

. . . she got out the tweezers and went to town on the strays.

Lisa was all over my business and moved everything about without apology or deference.  She had her hand on the area of my clit so long that I felt sure I'd either die of embarrassment ("No embarrassed!") or go the other way and have a "happy ending."  Her face was so near to my nay-nay as she plucked stray hairs, she could have touched it with her nose.   And all I could think was, Oh, God, please don't fart!

But other than that, it was fine.

I was put in some awkward positions; the kind where, if it was during sex, you'd wonder if it wasn't maybe a bit too kinky for your tastes.  And the most sensitive areas did sting a bit.  But it really wasn't bad at all.  And when she was done, I had a little landing strip in front and nothing but baby-smooth skin from there on back.

I felt it.  It was soft.  I liked it.

And for the next couple weeks, I took many opportunities to feel it again.  Very nice.  I invited others to feel it . . . well, okay, you got me.  I invited Lady T to feel; no one else.  But I thought about it!

For the next several weeks I wore my skimpiest bathing suits and undies without a care in the world.  Boldly, even.  Braggadociously.  "Ha, ha, fukkers!  How's that for worry free, huh?  Betcher envious now, aren'tcha?  Huh?  HUH???"  God, I hope I used my inside voice and not my outside voice.

And then, one day I did the freakiest thing.

I went back and got it done again.

"No way, Dana!" 

Way!

And this time, that second time, I was a confident veteran.  I lay down and boldly flung my panties across the room like a woman unconcerned, without even bothering to see where they landed.  (Oh, okay.  I folded them neatly and set them on the little table.  What of it?  I felt like I was boldly flinging, dammit!)

The second Brazilian bikini wax  was a breeze.  I loved it, even.  Very relaxing and meditative.  And as before, very invasive, but all business.

Now that fall is approaching, I may not see Lisa again for a while.  Maybe not until the days are long and hot again, and it is once more time to "bare all you dare."  But no matter what, the summer of 2008 will always be the summer of my big Brazilian bikini wax adventure  and the time when I finally found that it wasn't as scary or embarrasing as I had feared.  In fact, uh, it's not embarrassing at all.

 No, ma'am.  Not a bit.  Not embarrassed.  Not me.  No way.

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My waxer's name is Anastasia. She is a no-nonesense Russian with a Boris-and-Natasha accent. I am afraid of her. She has no sense of embarrassment or modesty at all. In fact, I'm pretty sure she'd just wax me in the waiting room if she got backed up. And because I am afraid of her, I'd let her. She does a good job, though.
Yeah, I was going to write Joan about the "no nudity" policy on the photos. I'll get right on that.
Thank Goddess hair on male privates is mostly tolerated. I saw that guy on the Grahan Norton Show getting his landing zone waxed. I'd take the Viet Cong any day.
Well, I can see that I went into the wrong career. Is it too late for a middle-aged man to become a Wax Master?

But here's a serious question. Well, sort of serious. When you're "boldly wearing your skimpiest bathing suits," it must be obvious that you've had The Wax. So do you get snarky comments from other women about how "artificial" that is? Kind of like what might be said about implant-enlarged breasts? Or are you really the Object of Envy?

By the way this is a very entertaining piece. Thanks for posting.
Mishima666, I don't think I've ever had a single comment about my hoo-hah, whether pre- or post-brazilian era. However, I'd be a lot more afraid that people were making them behind my back if I had pubic hair dangling out of my clothing like hanging pothos plants. (Not that I'm that hairy. I'm just sayin'.)

And I'm sure there is time for you to become the wax master. I don't think I'll be using you, but there are lots of gay men who would stand in line for your services!
So funny, I read it to my husband.

(That's REALLY, REALLY funny!)

Thanks for sharing!
Sandra: Anastasia would just wax you in the waiting room, and because you fear her, you'd let her? Ha! I can so envision that. Thankfully, Lisa is very sweet, and almost entirely painless. I don't think I would ever have gone back to Anastasia.
I had always thought I was a bit adventurous, and I have no great love of pubic hair, either my own or others, but I'm not sure I would be willing to go quite this far. Interesting to contemplate tho.

Thanks for the funny, interesting entertaining essay.
-j
Ah, c'mon, nitejazz. There's gotta be someone in Sitka who will wax your wanger. Do it, and then tell us about it. 'Kay? ;-)

BTW, I love Sitka. Love the Russian architecture and the way the residents feel that even the rest of Alaska is "Outside." And I recall the running salmon being so thick that I could just wade out into the river and pick up a dozen with my bare hands, right in town. I wonder if it's like that, anymore.
Well - uh - I can honestly say I've never considered waxing for myself. And after your write-up, I'm sure of it.

But it made for an entertaining read. I've always wondered what a Brazilian exactly meant. So - uh - thanks for sharing?
In Sydney there is a very large gay population, and as a result, a lot of 'waxing parlors'. They have those grease pencil advertisements on the window: Backs Sacks and Cracks Special, $79!

I just thought I'd add that.
Mishima actually brings up an interesting point (edging close to double entendre territory, that)... which is that there really are some women out there who seem to want to police this sort of thing as anti-feminist. The argument is that those of us who wax - especially those of us who take it ALL off) are trying to please men that are overly influenced by the porn-star aesthetic, and/or trying to please men who are turned on by pre-pubescent displays of nubility. Which is all a lot of crap, and I can't help but think that the women who have these attitudes are uptight prudes who have never been properly laid (an attitude I usually find repellent bu hey, sometimes the shoe fits). I am a grown woman and nothing one me, but nothing, looks like it did when I was a little girl. I'm larger all over, and sexually mature - hair is not the only sign of that maturity, either. So that blows that argument out of the water. As for the porn aesthetic, I can't think of anything less attractive than a porn star - they are parodies of sexuality and womanhood, which appears to be a requirement for the job. I'd no sooner make myself over in the image of a porn star than I'd make myself over in the image of Sarah Palin. Well, maybe for Halloween. But only then, and as an ironic statement.

Waxing enhances sexual pleasure. I also happen to like the way it looks. Those are the only two reasons anyone I know does it. Those women who wish to project their fears of carnality and rage at the patriarchal machine on my hoo ha are barking up the wrong tree. Not that anyone has done that here, mind you. Just thought I'd let Mishima know that yes, the snarksters are out there.
Dana,

Your post is hilarious! Naughty too............
It has inspired me to consider some serious "Manscaping"
before the next thaw.

It just occurred to me that "Dubya" has said clearing brush relaxes him too.
Ok, all I can say is, you go Dana and Sandra! I think I'll stay a stubble woman. My hubby suggested Brazilian waxing. He often has very good suggestions - like getting my nose pierced when I went to Australia. THAT didn't hurt as much.

So I tried it. All I can say is OW OW OW OW OW OW OW ...... Ok, you get the idea. Embarrassment isn't an issue. Pain, however, is.

Very funny and well scribed as usual Dana, thanks.

Oh BTW, for some very sexy thongs & illegal-to-wear-in-the-US bikinis, search "Wicked Weasel" It's a small company in Australia
Having hair added is traumatic too.
Dana writes: "Mishima666 . . . I'm sure there is time for you to become the wax master. I don't think I'll be using you, but there are lots of gay men who would stand in line for your services!"

Oh . . . well . . . yeah . . . uh . . . maybe I'll just continue on as a data analyst. It's just that your description of the female wax process was so . . . interesting.
Sandra, thank you for saying all that. And I will add that I don't fit the prude's mold, either, as I am not doing it for any man, at all. I am doing it for myself, and there ain't a man anywhere in sight of my sex life. The only man to see my vulva is my male gyno, Dr. Scoot-On Down.
Dana---thanks for taking us on a journey many of us wouldn't have guessed we'd have today! Great piece! (of writing. . . .)
Dana,

I'm sure there are some places here which would be happy to provide these services, I had a gay work colleague a couple of years ago who raved about it but I never asked him where he went.

The fish are still here and so is the attitude, its a big part of why we stay here in Sitka. In spite of the trials of living 600 miles from the nearest city and off the road system.
After thinking about Sandra's comment, I believe there is some sort of anti-feminist factor to Brazilian waxing. It has something to do with evolutionary notions of youth, health and choosing a partner for babymaking.

After all, why do we find certain things attractive? Why are muscles and a three-day beard attractive on men? And why are we attracted to curves and youth in women? It all has to do with the selection of a mate; who is the better choice with whom to make another human being. And I think smoothness "down there" both denotes youth and highlights the visibility of the vulva, the former being a biological advantage and the latter being like a neon sign, advertising availability -- "this space for rent."

Not that I, as a lesbian with a life partner, have those things in mind when getting waxed, nor does any woman. It's instinctual. We like it because we are built to like it, not because we are consciously deciding these things.

Otherwise, this phenomenon would never have been invented. Certainly I never would have thought to wax all that hair off.
Ok...THIS cracked me up. Thanks for the diversion, Dana....although my eyebrows (not waxed, but trimmed by my stylist monthly with my haircut, tyvm) stayed raised so long while I was reading your prose that I now have even deeper forehead wrinkles....

And now back to the politics at hand, rather than the "at hand" here....alas and alack.
neilpaul: You had a bad waxer. There is certainly nothing wrong with a man waxing his chest, and for her to be stand-offish and pre-emptively defensive ("women only!") just goes to show that she's not the operator for you. There are lots of waxers who would be happy as pie to wax your chest, and I'll bet some that would be glad to do your "bikini area," if you were so inclined.
Neilpaul,

Unfortunately, the "most private" aspects of womanhood are made political by hundreds of years of history, and the desire of millions of Americans to control our most private aspects. Not to mention that even mundane aspects like how much we are paid for a job are made political by virtue of unequal treatment. You're a lawyer? How much do you make? Let's compare notes. Sensually, of course. I'm only interested in your money for sensual reasons...
I'm not prudish, nor am I unusually squeamish, but I still gotta say, I don't think I'm going to be availing myself of this anytime soon. I'd probably get too freakish about maintenance and end up a waxing casualty.
Great post, Dana, you're my new hero! Sandra, too!

I'd say a lot more, but this stuff is googlable, isn't it? ;)
Of course, everything I know I learnt from the movies, but Neil, guys, please, please see 40 Year Old Virginbefore letting 'er rip.

And Blake, am I to understand you were actually googling "Brazilian Bikini Wax Job" and found this piece? Hmmm.

And lastly, inquiring canine minds want to know (these other dogs are probably to shy to ask) is that a self-portrait or false advertising?

And finally, Gary Justis gets my vote for wittiest comment and his ability to slam G_D___Bush with anything, even pubic hair.

WOOF
Dear Dog,

1. I'll never tell.

2. Try googling "brazilian wax open salon" and see what pops up.

3. Get off the sofa.

Good dog.
CCC: I didn't think of that. No, I was completely thinking of it from the narcissistic angle: the possibility of someone I know Googling MY name and somehow getting here.... not wanting to divulge the "family secrets" so to speak. ;)
I'm sorry, I am never, ever EVER going to be able to do that. I envy your smoothiness, but. I just couldn't. Really. No way in hell, ever.

But you are a brave, bold mamacita. Gotta love that in a girl.
Leigh, if it was as painful for me as it seems to be for you, I wouldn't do it either. Maybe it has to do with the technician or the kind of wax used. But I feel very little pain throughout the whole, um, procedure.

I'm getting kind of embarrassed that I posted about this, though. It didn't occur to me that my hoo-hah would be the focus of attention. Duh. I should have known.

My partner, Lady T, said, "You know, don't you, that everyone reading that will be thinking about your smooth, freshly waxed pussy, right? And at the very top you encourage them to think about touching it. And you know that the people where you work -- and where I work -- read your blog, don't you? What were you thinking???"

Me: "Uh, I didn't think about that. I just thought it would make a cute, fun, non-political story. Should I delete it?"

T: "You have how many comments already? I think that horse has left the barn."

Me: "Ugh."

Well, too late now. Guess I'll just go along for the ride. As it turns out, posting about it was a lot more embarrassing than actually doing it. And probably more painful, too...
But look how many fans you have now!
Oh come on, buck up ya big girly girl. It's out there, and even if you DID take it down, probably thousands of drooling, droopy men have already got it cached by now. Maybe hundreds of thousands.

And it's not the pain I couldn't take, it's the "positioning." I truly think I would pass out from embarassment.

But like I said, I am genuinely envious of your hoo-hoo.
Leigh said: "It's out there, and even if you DID take it down, probably thousands of drooling, droopy men have already got it cached by now. Maybe hundreds of thousands. "

Hundreds.Of.Thousands!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

eek

"And it's not the pain I couldn't take, it's the "positioning." I truly think I would pass out from embarassment."

Embarrassed!? No embarrassed! NOT EMBARRASSED!!! Okay?" ;-)

"But like I said, I am genuinely envious of your hoo-hoo."

Oh, so many clever retorts come to mind, but alas, I've done enough damage to myself, here, already. :)
Dudette. You're an "Editor's Choice."

HA!
Hundreds of thousands? Try 150. That sounds more like it.
Got to watch out for the camel toe. That's all I'm saying...
I just...keep cracking up. Not sure if it's the actual USAGE of the word "hoo-hoo", or whether I'm picturing teenage boys (and alternative girls) googling and coming up with this article....

For the record...if hot wax comes near my equipment...I'm running. Like I've never run before. Just saying.
Hi Dana:
First of all, don't delete -- this is a really well-written piece, both funny, descriptive and instructive. Also, nothing "nasty" about it - I think your office mates might find much to admire here ;).

You write: "Of course, that smoothness follows a slight burning sensation. And a little redness. Maybe even a day or two of swelling. And goddess help you if you are allergic to the wax they use." You had me at redness.

I cannot even have my eyebrows or lips waxed -- especially my lips without at least 24 hours of HIDEOUS redness and swelling. I cannot even imagine why I would want that pain or abrasion anywhere else! Both my hairstylist and my nail tech refuse to wax anything on me anymore due to the end result. So much for sensitive skin...and when I say sensitive, that means nerve endings as well....you get the picture. Her nose that close to me would have set off a wave of...OK, let's not go there this morning.

So, I am glad your vivid descriptions have permanently disavowed the possibility of EVER getting a bikini wax. I really did enjoy this piece, however - Thanks! :)
I was conditioned by a 1970's issue of Playboy when I was about 15 years old. I miss those days of natural between the legs beauty....
I'm blushing just having been caught reading it! I would be MUCH more concerned. First off where to stop this procedure,,,,, I am , shall we say,, furry. I think I'd look a tad silly with a 'landing strip' in the midst of the Amazon rain forest.

And in spite of ample physical courage, skiing couloirs, sky diving, sailing off shore, singing on stage (That is a scary one. If you really screw up, you're gonna live.).

But the thought of the wax 'treatment' ,,, well my last jump from 14,000 feet would certainly have been easier. I'll stick with fur.

Besides, it keeps me warm.

Dean
You find the most delicious things to write about.