Everyone has a breaking point, and I finally reached mine. I’m done… had it with the whole process. I’m talking about grooming the peekacho. With 2 small children, there are times when my area's overgrowth resembles something from the 70s. When that happens, it takes a shot of vodka and a Xanex just to make the call for a waxing appointment. The only logical answer to my woe is laser hair removal… taking care of my lady business once and for all sounds like a gem of an idea.
My first appointment was Monday. After arriving at the derm’s office, imagine my surprise when discovering that the performing doctor was in fact, a male. I will be the first one to tell you that once you push a baby out of your hoo-ha, a lot of humility and modesty gets pushed out with it. But this was too much. Lying on a table wearing nothing but socks and a t-shirt while a guy asked me what “shape” I wanted was enough to make me long for a cocktail and an unapologetic Eastern European lady pouring hot wax on my goodies.