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How I Survived My First Boyzilian at Strip!

 

I stalled for time. I asked Shayne R. Tiuman, head of operations, questions about the store and the process, and I found myself feeling calm. It turns out that Strip, and its sister company Browhaus, is a world-renowned establishment that originated in Singapore in 2002. Today, the brand is present in nine countries, with 35 branches in Singapore, London, New York, Hong Kong, Jakarta, Kuala Lumpur, Shanghai, Bangkok, and Manila. Strip holds the record for waxing and pruning over “two and a half million bushes worldwide.”

 

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Strip is innovative in their techniques and products. The best example is their secret-recipe lotions and wax, which are exclusively used for Strip and is not for sale. They also started the HSQ mantra (Hygiene, Speed, and Quality), the ‘No Double Dipping’ policy, and the Hygiene Pack, containing waxing equipment to make sure every customer is treated with new materials – even their bed sheet is disposed after every customer!

 

The term Boyzilian is a Strip original, and more and more men are availing it. The benefits of a cleaner and more hygienic private area is appealing to both men and their partners, and I would soon be part of that happy statistic. I wasn’t convinced, though, that I would be happy.

 

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 Their Makati branch is tucked in the fourth floor of Greenbelt 5, a wise choice as it will muffle the sound of my bloodcurdling screams. I was also happy that you can adjust the volume of music in your room. Yes, you read that right. You get your own private room – so chances of being seen and heard are zero. But my favorite (and probably a telling sign) is a squeezy toy in the shape of a monkey and a stuffed carrot.

 

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Strawberry and chocolate hot wax, a Strip secret recipe

 

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The time soon came for me to accept my fate. I was guided into a pleasant little room, where I was asked to remove my shorts. I was asked to lie down by my nurse, Krissy, and she applied a pre-wax cream to make sure that only the hairs come off (omg). She then applied hot strawberry wax, which came in the most delicious shade of pink, the dark kind that promised chocolate. There was chocolate wax, too, a rich sauce that looked good enough to eat. Alas, it wasn’t edible and only served as a buffer to the pain I was about to experience. I was assured that the strawberry mixture, used for first-timers as it is gentler, was infused with chamomile and aloe vera to soothe the area. She applied the torture instrument (a menacing piece of cloth), asked me to inhale, and at that moment when I could have said no, that I would back out, she pulled.

 

Oh, sweet Jesus. The pain. I don’t even know where to begin. Nothing prepares you for that kind of torture. Imagine the hair on your head being pulled in chunks, down to its roots. Having your balls kicked hurts more but this is a close second. I requested Krissy to put the music’s volume at its peak as I muttered every expletive in my vocabulary, the poor stuffed carrot squeezed so hard I think I juiced it.