A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away … OK, it was last year in The Frisky office … I was going to get my first-ever (and last-ever) Brazilian bikini wax. I was curious, but also terrified. Pain and I are not friends. So I asked Amelia, my boss and friend and person who had made an appointment at the waxing spa at the exact same time as me so we could go together, if she would stay in the room with me and hold my hand. And you know what she said?
Fast forward to last week when, for some reason, Amelia was talking about a friend she once had who wouldn’t let her borrow her compact to check whether she had a tampon stuck inside her. She asked if we’d let her borrow the compact in such a situation. As a noted germaphobe, I said, “Um, no?” Cue hellfire and brimstone raining down upon me.
It’s clear to me now that when there are friends (and bosses) and vaginas, there are complex and varying levels of closeness. Let’s unpack them, after the jump: Keep reading »