While there I mentioned to Heather, my stylist, that I was what? Going on vaca. She insisted that I get a bikini wax since I was going to the beach and would be sauntering around in a bathing suit all day (that is what I do, I saunter, walking is just too boring for vaca). I mulled this over in my head while she was clipping and cutting my hair. I always say I am going to get a bikini wax, but to be honest, I always chicken out. There is something about having a girl who is young enough to be my daughter ripping hair out of my groin that just frightens me.
I almost decided to sign my vah-jay jay away when the waxist (is that what a waxer is called? A waxist?) Anyway, I was almost signing my name to the "We are not responsible if the hot wax burns your under regions" paperwork when the waxist walked out of the waxing room. She had a pierced nose with a chain that led to her pierced lip and she wore more eyeliner than a 5 year old in a Miss Little Beauty pageant. This all still did not bother me until she lifted her arm and I noticed that she had armpit hair! Now I ask you, what kind of waxist has armpit hair?
I decided that I did not need my bikini area waxed and headed home. When I got home I jumped in the shower because I was still in need of a little maintenance in the lower love box so I pulled out a brand spankin new razor and got to work.
Now, we all know I have Deodorant OCD, and Mascara OCD ... well I have discovered today that I apparently have pubic OCD as well. I need serious help.
Once I got to shaving, I could not stop! One side would always be a little uneven and the constant even-ing out kept getting me closer and closer to a Brazilian... or as I like to call it now, a "Britney Spears." I even grabbed a mirror to give myself a better angle but it kept fogging up and so I started cursing, and if any of you know me, you would know that once I start with the cursing... all hell is about to break lose.
I could not stop myself-I did not know how much would be enough or too little. I did not want to walk around the beach with any stray hairs peeking out to say hello... I also did not want to look like I should enter in the "most unique moustache" contest this weekend.
I am a believer in hair down there for the simple fact that it is like an extra covering to your secrets. I can be nekid as a jay-bird, but be confident in the fact that I have a little something left to the imagination. You can't be mysterious if you leave all of your business on display. But, since my pregnancy I have been looking a little bush woman-ish, granola if you will ("granola" is what we called the "natural" girls in college who did not shave their legs). I don't know what it is with pregnancy, but I do know that before I ever had kids I never had to worry about shaving down under... I assumed I would have a neat little upside down triangle all of my life. Imagine my surprise when my triangle morphed into a pentagon.
This was the part of the shower where my cursing turned angry because I started to think about men who have hair on their legs, chest, butt, back, in their ears, hanging out of their noses, and of course... in their britches. They do not shave or wax. They do not worry if any hair will be peeking out from under their knee length baggy comfortable bathing suit. Noooo, they get to be all hairy and comfortable. Sure they have to shave their faces... but I can GAR-ON-TEE you my husband will not shave his face once while we are on vaca and I will be shaving my legs, pits, bikini area and the occasional mole hair all week long! Oh the injustice! I almost protested the entire cha-cha shaving expedition but I was too far up the mountain to stop and head back to base. I was too far into my OCD.
Eventually I stepped out of the shower feeling a little like a sheep after being shaved of all of their wool. I did however hop on the scale to see if losing all of the "National Geographic" hair would make a difference. I hopped off the scale and then on again, off again and on. I blinked a few times and sighed heavily. I apparently have "weigh myself on the scale until I get the same weight two times in a row" OCD as well.
I seriously need medication.