Well, after I posted a photo on Instagram of a tree I found, that strangely resembled a pair of legs and a lady garden, I realised we don’t discuss our bushes enough.
Now, I’ll be the first to admit I don’t attend to mine anywhere near enough but when it’s not exactly on show at the Chelsea Flower Show each year, then do I need to bother? Simon would love an annual pass to the event but as I’m mostly knackered (yes, that’s a real excuse, sorry reason) then I can’t be arsed to dust off the hedge trimmer for once a fortnight airing.
Look don’t get me wrong I don’t walk about with pubic hair growing down my leg, that I brush into my leg hair and French plait for convenience. I am nowhere near that stage (to Simons delight) but when my granny knickers cover must the damage – it can get a bit wild…sometimes.
Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t know anything about a Brazilian wax and what is a French wax?! Then you can have any shape you want – the “Landing Strip”, a “Bermuda Triangle”, “Postage Stamp” (really?), “Martini Glass” (oh God) or the full works; a “Full Brazilian”!
See, all the names suggest you are going away somewhere lovely and hot – I am off to Brazil, I’ll meet you on the landing strip and if you don’t hear from me then I’m highly likely to be lost in the Bermuda triangle, so don’t waste a postage stamp on me. Just get pissed with a glass of Martini on me!
They, on the other hand, do not suggest I am finally sitting down with my feet up in my scruffy joggers, sweat top, eating yet another four-finger Kit Kat, do they? Can you imagine asking for a “Lazy Cow” wax (they just trim a few hairs, here and there), or an “I Wouldn’t If I Was You” wax (they go in with full health and safety goggles and a face mask on!)
A “Martini Glass” would be completely wasted when I am up half the night with my son, living in big knickers, old clothes and barely brush my hair. I can’t exactly go around saying “Oh I know I look shit today but if you could see my wanner, it looks amazing right now; it’s shiny and everything!! Look I have a photo; it’s the shape of a glass!”
I just about find a BIC razor (and most the time it’s going rusty with leftover shower cream on still) then, when I do it is a quick rub down with conditioner (top tip right there, girls) and go crazy hacking away, knowing my son will probably walk in at any minute saying “What’s that Mummy?” A beast my child, that is what that is, a bloody beast!
I have even had to pretend to shave him once with the plastic cap STILL ON! I lathered him up and “shaved” the bubbles off him and then I naturally did his beard too. I must have taken more love and care with a razor that day than I ever have in my life. The BIC must have risked going rusty with tears of joy, after the years of abuse and neglect its encountered.
I need to experience the full wax, the works, the whole shebang! But, do I really need to get on all fours? Even only Simon will see that on special occasions these days! And what if I fart? Do they hose you down? Do I read a magazine while my arse is up in the air? They could use me as a vase!! I am baffled beyond belief!
I am off to buy some waxing strips, vodka, chocolate and do this shit on my own. If you see me with brushed hair, clean clothes on and a smile, then you know I am really pushing the boat out and I have a bald lady garden – might even give you a sneaky peek…I won’t, don’t worry…I won’t!
Well, if I draw a face on it too, then I might!
Written by Sophie Farrow (Founder of Bad Mum)