I am walking fine, thank you very much. I was a little worried about it, as I got my first bikini wax on Saturday. Why I did such a thing, I’m not sure, but I did. A friend organized a “spa day” for a bunch of us — I think she goes to the spa more often than I do, so it wasn’t as strange to her as it was to me. It was a great place, Spa Soak, in Chicago. I got a pedicure and a bikini wax, both firsts for me. The pedicure was nice, and I now have lime green toenails, which is fun.
The wax I would not call “fun.” However, it wasn’t as bad as I had worried it would be. Joe was even a little worried, and told me (only half-jokingly, I think) maybe I shouldn’t get one because what if I went “Hnuuungh” (a direct quote) and popped out the fetus. I suppose yelling at Cubs games is right out, too, using that logic. But, my logic was that a) soon I won’t be able to see down there, and summer is coming, so I should start some upkeep, b) soon, a lot more people than usual will be taking an interest in that general area and poking around. It should look nice, no? and c) I should really start working on my pain tolerance in the groin area. So, bikini wax it was. It took a while, since after a winter (really, a lifetime) of neglect it was like the Belgian Congo down there (I know there’s some sort of Kurtz traveling into the Heart of Darkness, “The horror, the horror” Freudian joke to be made, but my English major days are over, so I leave it to you). The woman who did it was very nice and kind and as gentle as she could be, and kept me talking, which was distracting. I can’t imagine it’s a very fun job, giving bikini waxes. Expecially when Joe pointed out later that day that my undies had little stains from a long-ago period. That’s pretty classy. Don’t tell my mom I wasn’t wearing clean underwear. What if a bus had hit me on the way home?