I’d like to preface this post with an Over-Share Warning. If you are not game to get more than you bargained for, to find yourself privy to waaaaay too much information, look here instead. Or here. Or here.
You see, I have a hair problem. I’m not especially hairy, but there’s this one area that really causes me grief… oh think outside the square for a minute, will you? We all have hair there, and unlike many, that hair doesn’t give me grief – I have no pre-pubescent aspirations, thank you very much. Oh, except for the divine, clear, taught skin, and the freedom to believe in fairies and dragons and little gnomes that will tidy my house while I’m asleep… but I digress. My problem zone is the back of my thighs.
If you look at my legs from the front, I look like a girl that probably needs to get a razor to the bottom half, but the top half is really quite passable (except for the bruises from being a human jungle gym, that is). But turn me around and WOA MUMMA! What the Hell is that about?!
Tarantula Legs. Ape-WO-man. Fuzzy McWuzzy.
The bizarre thing is, it’s just that strip down the backs of my legs. Bikini – fine. Knees – bare. Arms – no worries. Brows – maintainable. Pits – the same. Moustache – only in the right light or when standing side-by-side with my heavily bearded father (he brings out the mo’ in me, I don’t know why). But the black wires adorning the backs of my thighs are downright disturbing.
“Wax, girl. It’s called wax…” I hear you cry, and that’s all very well, but when it comes to grooming and paying someone to do the grooming, I struggle a bit. I mean, isn’t it a tad unreasonable to have to pay for a full/half-leg wax when it’s really only just under a quarter that needs help? Sure, it may take a barrel of the hot stuff to get that rug off, but beauticians go by area, not volume, right?
And I can’t very well go calling those hall-runners a “bikini line”, well, not unless I was a man and hung like a dinosaur… So how do I explain what needs to be done when invariably I find myself talking to a smoothed and lacquered teenager who never had more than an eyelash out of place? And in any case, do beauticians even give quotes for a prospective job? I mean, I’m not going to wait until I’m stripped and on the table to ask for a discount, am I?
I have tried the DIY option, but it’s the most challenging part to get to (unless you’re going for the crack-wax and I am not about to go there – see point above). Don’t worry, I have tried and I ended up with welts and bruising that made me look like I was into some seriously kinky stuff and didn’t that raise the eyebrows of my fellow swimmers!
I have hidden behind board shorts when at the beach, but with my Triplodalong career about to begin, I need to do some lappage and that lappage doesn’t go so nicely when weighed down by thigh rugs. I need to get into a swimming costume without the locals calling the RSPCA to come rescue the baboon lolling in lane three.
So, a little help? A few ideas? Maybe even some hairy scary stories for encouragement? Otherwise I fear my triplodalong career may be over for a third time. Or worse, I will have to hide my hail-damaged, sun-deprived thighs forever more… and what a shame that would be!