After all the whootenanny talk, with the powders and the Barbies and the traumatized four-year-olds, I decided to go professional. Got a bikini wax today. Couple things:
1. It didn't hurt. Not like you hear, anyway.
2. It was more thorough than any gyno exam I've had, and I *didn't* get a Brazilian. I can't even fathom how that would work.
3. I am virtually certain I'm the fattest person this woman has ever waxed, but bless her she was lovely the entire time. And I tipped her well for her trouble.
It's been kind of a shit day. I'm three pounds above my Sunday low. I'm on the verge of tears. I was starving all morning, didn't make very good choices. Got a call from my son's teacher than he's lying, but almost exclusively about food -- trying to buy lunch after he eats what we've packed him, trying to finagle a second snack from her after he eats the one from home, etc. I don't even know where to begin. I called the pediatrician to ask for help.
We leave on Sunday to visit my parents in Florida, just me and the kids. The Hubs has to stay home and work for a living.
I've flown a lot with the boys - they're pro travelers - but never with all three of them before. I'm girding my (newly waxed) loins for shlepping three kids, a car seat, stroller, bottles, snacks, sandwiches and various carry-on items through security, on and off the plane and through two airports. Pray for me. I need it.
