Laser hair removal

 Going into the major city is always a big deal. I have to leave our sleepy little place in the hills and valleys and take a train into the big smoke. Except of course there is very little factory smoke there nowadays. 

It's exciting. I don't get out much. (those of you who know me, will know this is tongue in cheek.)

I get to my laser clinic appointment to have my legs, bikini line and armpits lasered. But she says 'the package includes a Brazilian.' Did she meant a man? 

 Leaning over the desk, I whispered 'does that mean - you know- all of it'. 

'Oh yes' she replies. 'Off at the front.  The back, the peri anal, that can be an extra £10'

Ouch. Not going there. 

In my appointment, we get going on the legs and bikini area and before I know it, - I've been brazilianed. Well, I did notice the start, but I was so giggly that I said nothing. Maybe I am my own special sort of special needs. Wide open as a three year old  but aged 62. A confusing combination. 

Is she really looking at all my lady parts? Whilst I give her parenting advice? 

Then I realise that this is not something I can show off to my friends like my recent tattoo. This is for mine and husbands eyes only. And medical staff.   And laser staff now. 

So I meet my husband in the pub and tell him, both about the tattoo and the brazilian. No, I haven't had a Brasilian tattoed on my mons. He eyes my crotch warily. 

At home, when undressing for bed, we both glance towards the bush less bush area. It looks very naked. Like a child.

 'It'll grow back, I am sure', I reassure us both. 

'Not the point of laser removal surely?' he says. 

'Well, maybe less bushy and finer hairs' I say, determinedly hopeful. 

Watch this space. Well, not precisely THIS specific space.