We went to Spain for a week in February, I decided it would
be factor 50 weather so packed every light summer item I possessed and no
jacket….terrible decision. Turns out February really is still February in Spain, go
figure. As well as packing light I decided to lighten up my personal load too.
We were meeting a friend whose body fat percentage is less than the Victoria
Secrets model at the moment they step on the runway. She’s fit and gorgeous and
tight. Considering at 20 weeks I was unfit, passable and soft I decided the
least I could do was defuzz so when standing next to her in the bikini (which
we obviously didn’t wear – see February above) I didn’t also add spider legs to
the list of differences we have.
I am not prudish and would happily walk around naked except
for the risk of chilblains and upsetting other people’s lunch HOWEVER it turns
out bikini waxing when pregnant is not for the faint hearted. Not to give too
much away about the drapery, heavens forbid, but turns out red hair is the
thickest of the hairs (wait, did I just give it all away there?). This coupled
with me slacking off on my personal styling when bump had cast a shadow to
‘that area’ (it’s a dangerous place to bring a scissors to blind) meant that
the beauty therapist had her work cut out.
She was wonderful and did not seem fazed by the task ahead; it was
her job she told me. I don’t buy it though….I know she didn’t walk in to beauty
school with hopes of one day waxing a pregnant woman’s ungroomed ginger bush,
and, if she did, she needs higher hopes or lower hopes but most certainly
different hopes.
So the wax; it was definitely more painful than usual and to her credit she was very, very thorough. We talked a lot which was helpful, it distracted the pain somewhat until of course she touched me and I wanted
to immediately reverse my decision to have a child. Thankfully I now understand
waxing is clearly more painful than childbirth so I’ll be fine. Anyway, the
talking was dandy except that as time moved along I was anxious to remain silent in order to let me
concentrate on the rather more urgent issue at hand.
Fellow people who have grown a child may sympathise with the
slightly increased amount of errr windy pops that the body produces. Mainly these
pop right out my delicate mouth which I can furiously apologise for while everyone laughs at the cute pregnant pops. Other times they do not pop out of my mouth
but instead find other ways in which to escape free. (Thankfully this is usually
when sleeping and my husband kindly does not let me know it has happened for
fear of me breaking down in a mortified toddlers crying tantrum.) Quite quickly, while
holding my knees to my pregnant and bloated stomach, I had a very real sense of
danger to what could happen next.
Have you ever held your knees to your swollen boobs while
another woman defuzzed your hootenanny? It’s not fun, it’s not mildly weird,
it’s not even bearable. By the time she was finished I had 15 different
apologies ready for the inevitable pop off that I was destined to allow escape
while she was working. I was sure that holding my legs, talking about a holiday
whilst sweating profusely meant that something would have to give and it was
surely my digestive muscles.
Time dragged on, as I said she was thorough; I willed her to
quit while she was ahead, get out while the going was good, SAVE YOURSELF SWEET
GIRL. Eventually the magical words ‘we’re done’ arrived; she was going to step
outside while I got dressed. I had done it! Success! I was smooth and still had
some dignity left to lose in the delivery room. However friends, I tell you
most sincerely I kept those legs up in the air until she was a safe distance
away. God only knows how much of the universe I had been gathering during the
wax and I was not about to release the lever of my legs to force it all back
out while she stood in the room.
Long story short. Bikini wax felt great however every moment
of it is seared into my brain forever more. Spain was wonderful, friend was
even tighter than the last time I saw her and I spent a week in too little
clothes unsuccessfully trying to do pregnant Chrissy Teigen on holidays.
No comments:
Post a Comment