You see, being a woman can be hard. And expensive. Men can go ahead and call us high maintenance for good reason. We put a lot of pressure on ourselves to look good. To smell pretty. To be fit and thin. To have the latest trends in clothing, shoes and accessories. Shiny hair and manicured nails and toes. Perfect make-up. Hairless bodies.
Of course not all women feel this way, and that's OK. But keeping up with all of this....I like it. I don't mind it one bit. It makes me feel like a girl. And to be honest, Wade could probably care less if I wore makeup, dressed in clothes that trended 5 years ago and didn't polish my toes. He'd still love me. He'd still tell me I'm the most beautiful girl in the world. And we'd probably have more money in our bank account. But he knows these things make me ME. I like to be pretty and I like to shop. I like to be pampered and go to the salon. And I think most of my girlfriends would agree with me on this.
Enter body waxing. You see, I have always been friends with my trusty lil razor blade. It's all I knew. I shaved, lotion-ed, shaved again. Occasionally got a some sexy razor burn here and there. But that was normal. A couple weeks before our trip to San Diego, it dawned on me. If I waxed my lady bits, I wouldn't have to shave ALL week. I know, I'm like 10 years behind, whatever. So I consulted with the BFF. I made the appointment. I went.
I wanted to die.
I think I said every curse word I know 27 times. I almost kicked poor Leona in the head twice and she had to pin my legs down while in an extremely compromising position. She laughed at me when I asked her if my vagina had swollen to the size of an elephant because, well that's exactly what it felt like. I told her I didn't think I'd be able to make it through childbirth if it's worse than this shit. Seriously.
But almost 3 weeks later. I am a believer. And now I have one more thing to maintain.
Cheers to be being a women, hairless or not. We are ALL beautiful.
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