This blog is hanging pretty close to the edge of too much information. You were warned.
This morning, my bestest (who is due December first, with her first child) sent me a text to ask if I had any tips on how to trim 'down there' since she can't even bend over her belly. She made a reference to a jungle and I laughed so hard I almost peed myself. I wasn't laughing because I thought her dilemma was funny, I was laughing because I had the same embarrassing problem when I was pregnant. I didn't want to go to my prenatal visits with this hairy monster all up in the way, and I too was unable to see anything past my belly button. I considered going to get a wax, but my Mum informed me that it would probably hurt ten times worse because I was pregnant. Scratch that idea. I'm too fat for pain. So my only alternative was to ask for help.
Poor Jeffrey. He was shaving in his bathroom when I walked in, and shyly asked if he'd like to do me next. He was a little confused at first, I'm pretty sure he thought with all the hormones I had somehow grown a beard that he didn't know about, but he was willing to shave my face if I was willing to sit still. No dear. Not my face.
So I'm standing in the shower, naked from the waist down, trying to pick my huge belly up a bit so that the "Master Shaver" could see what he was doing. He's giving me the play by play of what's going on down there, and I'm just standing as still as possible, praying he doesn't chop off a labia. At first, things were going pretty slowly, the female anatomy is a little more complex than Jeffrey's baby face, so it was understandable that this ordeal was probably going to take a while. But then Jeffrey starts getting a little too confident in his bush shaving abilities, and things went downhill from there. There was blood, not too much, but enough for me to abort the mission. I was so flustered with trying to make the bleeding stop, I didn't even think about the fact that I was only half done.
Three days later, I'm sitting on the table waiting for my OB to come in. We exchange the usual dialogue, he asks me how I feel, I say I'm good, he's good, we're all good. It's exam time so I plop backwards and get all spread eagle for him, just hoping it'll be a quick look and I'll be able to avoid peeing on him.
OB: Hmm. That's... interesting.
Me: Oh my God, is she coming out??
OB: Oh, no. I was talking about your weed wack job. A mirror might help next time. [huge shitty ass grin]
Should've got the wax.