Routine Maintenance -- for the girls only!

**I am prefacing this post with a disclaimer -- IF YOU ARE A MAN/BOY/FATHER/HUSBAND/BOYFRIEND or otherwise STRAIGHT MALE OF ANY KIND, you probably don't want to continue reading this.**

I did a "check in" at Three-13 this morning for routine maintenance.  OK, actually, nothing about this visit was routine.  Though I must say now, after the fact, it probably should be.  Anyway, I decided a few weeks ago that I was going to have a bikini wax before our beach trip.  The idea of shaving down there always takes me to an unhappy place, and the aftermath is fairly painful.  So I decided I was going to take care of this before out trip so I wouldn't have to worry about aforementioned "aftermath" while we were at the beach or walking around Disney World.  (Yeah, ouch.  If you need more explanation, email me.)

Actually, let's take it back a few months -- I had intentions of getting this done at the beginning of summer.  Think of all the pain I could have saved myself had I had it done then?  But the kids are impatient, our first pool day was upon us, and, well, let's just say I didn't have time to make it to the salon.

So last night I was terribly nervous about this bikini wax thing.  I've never had it done before (Yes, I'm 32 and I've never had a bikini wax.), and several people had told me how painful it can be.  So I was somewhat prepared for the pain.  I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, so I really didn't think it would be that bad.  I mean this tough girl made it to 8 cm with no epidural, right?  So I walk into Three-13 trying to look as if this SAHM belongs there.  The super cute girl, Kat, takes me back to the "Quiet Room," and tells me to disrobe from the waist down and put those on.

What are those, you ask?

Well you may not ask since most of you have probably endured this before.

Those are disposable panties.  Awesome.  While a tad bit uncomfortable, I must say they are more attractive than the disposable ones I had to wear after giving birth in the hospital.

So then Kat comes back in and just starts talking to me like we're old friends.  (It's a distraction technique, I'm sure.)  As she's asking me how long I've been married and how many kids I have, she proceeded to take me to that terrible place from which I thought I'd never return!!

Holy crap!!

Seriously??  People do this on a regular basis?  And don't tell me that you get used to it ... there's no way.

OK, I'll be honest.  With my high tolerance for pain, only about 10 percent of it really hurt.  And I mean HURT.  Like, on a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being labor pains, those few seconds were like 8.5.  (Which, on a side note, has made me reconsider the pain I've been in with my stomach for the last few weeks!)  Of course, as Kat ripped the life out of me, I tried to act like it was nothing and I had done this so many times before.  She then asked if I wanted a full Brazilian (Again, if you need an explanation, email me.), at which point I squeaked, "Please don't take anymore."

Stop laughing at me.  It's not nice.

Now that it's done, I'm glad I did it.  And I'm sure I will be much happier with the outcome of this versus the outcome of shaving while I'm at the beach amidst the sand and sunscreen or while I'm sweating and walking around Disney.  Those two are just razor burn waiting to happen.

So there you have it.  For those of you who commented on my "check in" with "Lucky girl," and "You deserve it," I hope you retract your statements now!  LOL  It certainly wasn't fun.

Of course, now I do feel a bit liberated ... maybe this will be a routine thing ... ;0)