As a newly single woman, pondering the prospect of a new love interest, I was filled with horror at the thought that, at some point, someone is going to see me… naked.
It’s been the best part of 20 years. I’ve had a couple of kids. Gravity, childbirth and a few too many glasses of Pinot Noir, have not been kind to me. In fact, my once beautiful navel looks like a pair of old ladies beige tights with a ladder in them… And as for the rest of it… I’d really rather not say.
Over the years, I’ve taken less and less care of my physical appearance. Having my legs and bikini line waxed has become a seasonal event – tied in to the kids wanting to go swimming in the holidays.
In my newly single state, I realized it’s not enough. But as I’m not the kind of woman who spends hours with her girlfriends discussing bikini lines, I really wondered what the options were and just how far I should go.
That’s when my gay friend Julian came round. I outlined my concerns – as you do - and once he had recovered from fits of laughter, he jokingly suggested that I either get the whole lot ‘whipped off’ or really ‘go for it’ and get “Vagazzled”!
“It’s very popular in Essex!” he exclaimed. “And Jennifer Love Hewitt does it”.
I ‘Googled’ it:
I’m obviously very sheltered – because I had no idea people actually spend time doing stuff like that.
“The problem is” Julian continued, “you might find that your bed looks like Tinkerbell has had a fight with the Tooth Fairy when you wake up”.
“Sparkles EVERYWHERE!”
As I’m really not that ‘bling’, I booked an appointment at my local salon, and decided I’d take advice from the beautician.
I found myself alone, with a girl who’s young enough to be my daughter, coyly confiding that I may have a new love interested (ie I’m hoping to get laid) and discussing just how much maintenance is needed. It felt very surreal. And painful.... as Crystal can testify...
She seemed to know all about Vagazzling… but suggested that I go for an extended bikini wax. It’s one step short of a Brazilian – which she was adamant was too much too soon.
“The Brazilian is our most popular treatment” she told me. “Honestly, once you’ve done it, and got used to it, you won’t want anything else.”
I came out of the salon half an hour later, looking like Hitler’s niece – but with big red blotches. I couldn’t help thinking that this new ‘maintenance’ drive was going to take some getting used to.
So, what next?
Underwear.
I’m sure we all have them in our drawers. The knickers that used to be white, until they got into the wrong wash. It didn’t seem to matter when I was in an established relationship, but now – it’s just embarrassing.
And so I decided that my newly hewn ‘bits’ deserved new knickers.
The sales assistant, who was old enough to be my mother, seemed to know what she was doing.
“At your age you need sexy not slutty” she said, in a very imperious tone. And so I left with a beautiful set of underwear which I’m hoping will take the eye away from the wobbly bits.
The whole process, despite the expense, felt good. It made me feel feminine again, like I did when I was younger.
I also felt more confident and ready to find someone to appreciate it.
No action so far, but I’ll keep you posted!
Oh, and one last thing. An old boyfriend of mine nearly died laughing when he heard what I’d been up to.
“I don’t know why you girls do it to yourselves. I don’t care about hairy legs. And it doesn’t matter what your underwear looks like when it’s on the floor. Just remember, men’s bodies aren’t what they used to be either – so don’t worry about it. Just make sure you have an electrician round to install a dimmer switch!”
Sound advice.
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