Waxing- A Pubes Tale

For some reason on a fairly regular basis I subject myself to a wax. You'll have heard it before - I am a bit lazy and will go through the pain to be hair free for more than 5 minutes.

Today was one such experience with possibly the most thorough beautician I have come across yet.

I may become a regular in the vein hope that I don't have to go too frequently.

After the third application of wax it took a set of tweezers to remove the last Bastien of 7 pubes, from what had been a quiet and warm arm pit. They'd scattered in the optimistic belief that they could hide in plan sight. It was not to be.

I found myself thinking rather proudly:

"Oh just leave them. They've survived 3 applications of hot wax and vigorous yanking"

Like The Magnificent 7 they were displaying a level of determination that would see any Mexican villager doing their own rendition of Michael Jackson's Moonwalker.


Equally another thought was running through my head:

"Oh for the love of hot wax GIVE UP and leave. There is nothing left for you- everyone else has gone to the cotton strip party. JOIN THEM AND LEAVE ME"



This thought was louder than the other.

The power of a Gin & Tonic

Possibly one of my favourite driks.


Next to a warming and strong Rioja *


[Imagine the sound of a Jaguar Purring. Right in your ear. ]


Tonight I got an invitation to a very special party- that would go on for more than one day. More to follow, in July (insert smiley face. BIG smiley face).

This invitation came at the end of the longest day of the longest week.

It was the best point in at least 48 hours - including a Jamirequi concert. . .

It generated the biggest smile on my wee tired corporate face.

Husband came home tonight, not to the party invite (although his is invited) but to a MASSIVELY hormonal wife.

His best course of action= a soothing cuddle and a gin and tonic.

40 minutes later it was my turn to repay the favour. As I type this I can't feel my teeth and my eye balls feel like marbles in their huge sockets.

Thank you Granny for teahing me how ro make a proper West Coast of Scotland  G&T.** . . .

I hold you responsidle, I think!

If you have decided this blog didn't make sense. It's because of the Gin and Tonic. . . v. powerful!!


[I am totally undermining this personal trainer malarkey]


* if that is spelt wrong it because of what is about to follow. Should sound like rio-ka,

** Gin with a smidgeon of tonic

Personal Training Rules of Engagement- 1-5

Rule 1: Do Not Patronise your PT
They don't take this well and it is especially ill-advised early on into your relationship. He has a huge range of weaponry at his disposal that he will not hesitate to inflict it all on you.

Because you have paid your money you will not walk out, even during a circuit session that would see Mike Tyson in tears.

Rule 2: Don't get sarcastic with your PT
They are already fit as a fiddle you are not. See Rule 1 for likely consequences.

Comments like :Is that an honest "real" second or a "Marty" second which is 4 times the length of a normal second?

Will be met with: As you still have breath to speak lets do another 10 shall we?!

Rule 3: Shave your Legs
This is one that will help both parties and is in general a good piece of gym etiquette to practise.

You wont be left cringing in embarrassment- as you watch him try to stretch/straighten your leg by touching only the heal of your trainer and your knee cap with his knuckle in the hope his hands don't come in contact with the prickly hairs that are now trying to get through your 3/4 length running shorts!

He wont have to pretend that neither of you have noticed how awkward this last stretching exercise has become!!

Rule 4: If you talk you can work
Too much chatter is interpreted as "I am not being worked hard enough". *

He will adjust the speed/weight/incline, level of reps accordingly and you will either

a. become incoherent and shut up

or

b.  want to vomit all over him- not through some sense of pay back or retribution mind.

* From what I can gather they might be mildly interested in your life but I seriously doubt it - this is some kind of fitness barometer like a resting heart rate is indicative of health (I have no idea but I think a high resting heart rate is a bad thing. . . as is an exceptionally low resting heart rate... I am neither a medic nor a personal trainer so have no idea!)

Rule 5: Have at least a day between PT sessions
Unless you are at the end of your block booking and have already attained the body of Adonis then it is not recommended to have a PT session the day after surviving the last one! You will find you ache when you sit, stand, take your coat off, walk, climb stairs.

Your body will be doing their version of a protest and letting you know that your stomach muscles are involved in picking up a ringing phone!!




We're not even half way through I am sure Rules 6-10 will make themselves apparent as I work my way through my sixteen 30 minute sessions with my ever smiling and enthusiastic personal trainer!

Dear Mum (3)

I put this up on Mothering Sunday by mistake- foolishly I forgot that I had set a publish date on it. Anyway it went out and I got caught out by someone who has had a chance to read it before I whipped it off-line. 


She then sent me a personal email which was very touching and caught me off guard in a Birmingham Airport lounge this afternoon (thankfully my boss was busy pilfering the crisp and cake stand in the executive lounge to bring out to his minion- manager your manager part 1!!). Reminding me of my 2011 resolution to be a bit more honest and open about some of the less bright and cheery things, so I am putting this back up. Thank you- you know who you are x


I guess the intention behind some of these Dear Mum letters is to put a bit of a shape around some of these thoughts and experiences. For those of you who are lucky enough to have both parents, alive, well and full of love and pride for your achievements give them a hug. Some of us don't and wont ever have that opportunity and it can be a hard thing to get your head around. 


So in part this gives a voice to my experiences and I hope it remains an honest account of the questions I wont be able to get answers to, or any understanding of why these events happened they way they did or explain why people react the way they did and do to this. 


It may be something you can identify with or something you get some comfort from. Not many people talk about loss or grief and the circumstances surrounding them can be difficult to come to terms with regardless of age.


In short if I am going to start these Dear Mum's then I really shouldn't pick and choose- well, I will but then again that is my prerogative, but I will try not to!!!




Dear Mum,

I am nearly 30 years old and I still have nightmares. I always thought that was the kind of thing you grew out of. They would one day just stop.

You remember I used to have them a lot as a young child and would seek out your protection in the middle of the night. Curling up in your lap, as Dad lay asleep on the other side, I was safe and secure and the sweet dreams would come back.

Now you appear in my nightmares. You are small, fragile, angry and accusing. Filled with hurt and hate and furious with me:

Why didn't you do more?

How could you have let me go?

How could you have let Little Sis and Littlest Sis down so easily?

You are your fathers daughter!

I sometimes wake up crying and depressed and guilt ridden.

I can go months, years even, without having a nightmare like this but when it happens it seems to leave me totally drained for days and I have to remind myself that there was nothing I could do. 

Nothing you could do yourself. 

Nothing anyone could do. 

I am not an easy bed fellow. 

But Husband incredibly seems to know when its happening and can soothe very easily with an "It is o.k, you're alright". 

And I am alright and it is o.k. and I fall back asleep with his protection keeping the nightmare at bay.

Then there is a cruel twist- the sweet dreams of you. You are there, laughing and conspiring some mischief with me to have fun. Full of love and cuddles and smiles and kisses.

The proper you. 

On reflection I am not sure which is worse.

This will be our 10th Mothers Day without each other and I will, as I did last year, leave a card on your plaque with a note inside- just for us.

Lots of love, always 

Cass

xx