So... I spent the past two weeks detailing my experiences with getting older, and discovering new and exciting things about myself. I’m kinda getting the hang of fixing my newly curly hair (as long as I leave the blow dryer in the drawer where it belongs) and the sorority girls are finally sleeping off their weeks’ long bender, so life is back to normal...
Yeah, think again. Whose life are we talking about here? Mine! It’s never really back to normal. On Wednesday, I drove to Chattanooga to have cortisone shots in my crumbling knees (thanks to years of tripping and landing on them) and Friday, I ended up in the Emergency Room with all kinda of fun side effects. Don’t worry, I didn’t die. But I don’t have anything super exciting to talk about this week. Let’s face it, EKGs and IVs don’t make for fun blog fodder... but I know what does. This week, I’ll be replaying a few of my favorite posts from the past nine years. I’m guessing some of them will be new to most of you, so enjoy! I’ll cook up something extra exciting for next week. Something that doesn’t involve me almost dying or having to expose myself to half a hospital wing. Then again...
Bare Today... Hair Tomorrow
Fashion is a fickle friend. Whether we’re talking miniskirts, skinny jeans, or platform shoes…long hair on men, short hair on women, or the question of whether or not to shave.
And I’m not just talking about beards here. Well…maybe I am.
I’ve done a lot of crazy things. I would be the first to admit it. Not only did I attempt to wax my own bikini area, and with disastrous results I might add, but I went ahead and wrote it down for all the world to see. Or rather read. So why not take it a step further. Why not discuss the other popular options?
I spent the better part of last night chatting with a bunch of women about that very thing.
It would seem I’m not the only one with a disastrous waxing tale. Apparently horrible things can go wrong even when a professional is in control of the hot wax. Especially when talking about a Brazilian wax. I don’t know about you, but sending a strange Brazilian into my nether regions with boiling hot wax is NOT something I will be adding to my bucket list. I burned my mouth on a barbeque chicken sandwich the other day and walked around sucking on ice chips all day…my tongue still hurts. That is not something I want to experience anywhere in the vicinity of my crotch.
So yeah, hot wax is out. But laser hair removal treatments might just be in.
It was brought up in the conversation last night, and I remembered it was an option at my doctor’s office. I mean, I’ve been known to remove my pants at the doctor’s office for medical reasons, right? It’s a yearly thing, in fact. So how much of a stretch would it be to put my legs into stirrups for fashion? Well…fashion, hygene…hey, in some circumstances it could actually mean going down a size in undergarments, and let’s face it, ladies…any opportunity to go down a size should be seized!
But the more I thought about this whole, permanent hair removal thing, the more I started thinking about fashion and her fickle moods. How many times have styles changed in the course of my life? Eyebrows have gone from pencil thin to thick and bushy and back to groomed again. Skirts have gone from long to short to even shorter in the blink of an eye. How can I be sure bare down there will always be in style? I mean, I remember the seventies and the popular back to nature bush-fro of the era. Sure, it was a little National Geographic, but you just never know when I might feel the urge to go all retro and sport a vintage look…it could happen.
Besides, who knows what all the grannies in the nursing home will be wearing. Sure, that’s a very long way off, but one has to be prepared for anything that may come up. I certainly don’t want to be the only one who isn’t up with the current trends. I’m nothing if not trendy.
So I guess for now I’ll be sticking with the expensive five blade shavers they keep behind lock and key at the grocery store…even they know the value of fashion…that is until someone comes up with something a little less dangerous, or the tide turns again and the retro bush-fro comes back in style.
I won’t be holding my breath.
Until the next time…I’ll be lathering up!