This is pretty private and gross, so anyone (i.e. male friends and family) easily offended probably wants to step away from the blog before you read anymore. I’ll even begin a fresh new paragraph so you don’t accidentally see something.
As one would expect, things are getting bigger. When I bend over to tie my shoes, I am very conscious that there is a much larger organ crammed into my abdominal cavity than there was 4 months ago. When napping with Stella, she sometimes rolls onto a boob (sigh). Worst of all, I’m reaching that point of pregnancy where it’s getting difficult to see and maintain certain body parts. Yes, it’s happened a bit earlier this time than last time, which is pretty typical from what I hear. It’s not impossible – yet – but the old pubes will soon be a thing of the past with respect to regular unassisted grooming. I cut myself in the shower just last night.
While hair is typically not the most aesthetically pleasing feature of the human body (not talking about the head, here), as grown ups it just comes with the turf. I know loads of women (and men) like that baby-smooth look. I, for one, think it’s probably a good thing that my girl bits look different from my little girl’s girl bits. Unless you’re a porn star and the world just really needs to see that much of those bits, what’s a little hair? I do, however, think that a bulging bouffant coming from one’s bikini area is a bit over the top. I always think of that old Black Crowes album cover. I think it may have even been banned at some point, damn you Tipper Gore and your PMRC!
I know that there are salons all over creation that offer services to help women with this issue. I have not ever – nor do I think I could ever – bring myself to go to an aesthetician and have that area “beautified.” I think I would be reminded of pink-haired Frenchie from Grease and the Beauty-School Dropout song (“your pubes look like an Easter egg!”). I know. These women have been trained and trained well. I seriously mean no disrespect to anyone in that field. It’s not even the fear of the pain, although I’m sure it’s fairly excruciating; my brows are bad enough. It’s just…..they’re not doctors. They simply have no business being that close, that intimate, with a woman’s bits. While I’m sure they’re well-paid, they aren’t doctor-well-paid. They should not have to experience certain sights, smells, or be required to touch certain things. And while most of the touching is fairly….external, I mean, hair gets tucked into….crevices and things. I wouldn’t think it’s like parting the hair on your head. I don’t even want to think of what that kind of service would be like. It’s creepy and vulgar to me for some reason.
By the end of my last pregnancy, I had just given up, figuring I’d go Sasquatch for the end. Then during my C-section prep, I had to meet one of Will’s extended cousins. She was shaving my pubes while introductions were being made. That was awkward. Maybe because I chose to go the C-section route and didn’t get to experience the freeway of love in and out of my vagina, this is probably my most humiliating moment of having a baby.
This time, I’m either going to have to get really flexible, really creative with a mirror or have Will assist. He’s already promised to do my toes and feet when I can no longer reach them. Then again, he promised to do that last time and it just didn’t happen. However I don’t know if my pride will allow me to even ask my husband for such services. Toenails and feet? Yep. I will be playing my “fat, achy, and pregnant card” this time ‘round. Regardless, I don’t think I’m ready to get that cavalier about personal grooming again. You just never know who will show up to shave you.