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 nowhere
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 Simon's 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 a “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 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 done his beard too. I must have taken more love and care with
a razor that day, then I ever have in my life. The Bic must have risked going
rusty with tears of joy, after the years of abuse 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 Me, Sophie Farrow (AKA Bad Mum) @sophie_farrow_bad_mum
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