I came across a post on my mom’s group message board entitled, “For Your Vagina.” When I saw it was written by my friend Christen, I knew I was in for something good. Tell me, how could I not read it? Within the first post, I see the words, “nether regions”, “barely there hair”, “cooter”, and “girly parts.” Sounds interesting! Christen was spreading the joy she (or at least her husband) has found from a wonderous product called “Magic Shave.” She said that through her “nefarious connections” (haha) she discovered this product which is designed for black men who get razor bumps on their faces. But apparently, it works well on your cooter, too! Blushing, I check to make sure this post isn’t directly addressed to me. Has she seen me in a swimsuit? Too short shorts? Has her husband been speaking to my husband? But no, she was just sharing the love.
I laughed my way through the rest of the posts and jotted down all the fun words for vagina (which I will be stealing an using here). Heather’s post actually made me spit my Diet Coke:
Now I can't get it out of my head, so I wonder if I'll try it too. Oh, the things you O'Mamas drive me to. I spend too long on the discussion boards, and it's created all sorts of unrealistic goals in my head now, like:1. Feed my child something other than Oreos every day2. Have an identity outside of mamahood3. Clean my house4. Have sex with my husband5. Get rid of my bushWord, sister. Word.
Armed with mama knowledge, I descended upon HEB for help taming “the beast.” Walking up and down the shaving aisle, I’m starting to feel sad when lo and behold I find it snuggled away on the end-cap next to the hair relaxer! And under $2 - score!
Once home, I pass the child off to Tim so I can get rid of my bush in peace. Reading the directions, I see “scrape off with spatula.” Spatula? WTF? Surely they mean the included little paddle, right? Wrong - nothin’ in there. I scrounge around in the kitchen drawers looking for a spatula small enough to maneuver easily yet firm enough to get the job done. Frankly, I’m looking for a spatula I can spare for ooooohhhh….ever. Something tells me I won’t want to stir the eggs in the morning after I’ve used said spatula to scrape my cooter the night before. Or am I just being a prude? I will not be using spatulas at Christen’s house in the future. I resolve to just scratch away with the metal measuring spoon I’m using to mix it up.
Armed with my supplies, I mix up the gray sludge, strip down and have a seat on the toilet with a hand mirror. I slather the mix up one side and down the other. When I’m done, I’ll not be “porno-ready” but I will have a nice landing strip. I check the time and lean back, legs akimbo to read my new David Sedaris book. I enjoy the breeze but I can’t help but wonder what David would say about this scene.
I forget to check the time and don’t look down until 12 minutes have passed. By this time, the cream has solidified into a lovely grey concrete path paving the way to the promised land. But no burning! Paranoid about getting it in the inner sanctum, I scuttle like a crab over to the shower with my teaspoon in hand. With the water running, I start the scraping process. Miracle of miracles, the hair is coming right off! I feel like I am painting on smooth skin!
The wad of evicted hairs starts to plug up the drain and I keep having to pull it out of the way with my foot. I once went to get a wax and the lady took one look and said, “Oh…You hairy!” I am not making that up. And if I remember correctly, I had trimmed it up specifically for her. So I was fairly sure this powder would not work on my pubes, seeing as they are spun from steel wool. But it did! Smoothest cha-cha ever! (“Cha-cha” being my favorite of the stolen words) I’m still skeptical about how long it will last - my body hair grows like that kid on
The Amazing Peanut Butter Solution. All those Omega-3s, you know.
Tim was practically waiting outside the door. Seal of approval from him I think. And beer coming your way, Christen!
