Warning – if the subject of ‘lady gardening’ is too much for your delicate sensibilities, look away now.
This week has seen two milestones in our household – E said his first word and I discovered a white hair. Not on my head.
Don’t get me wrong, my son’s first steps in learning language is very important, but for today I feel the need to offload about the shocking lady garden discovery.
I’m not a regular ‘pruner’, you see. My approach is more of a maintain-if-going-swimming-or-have-gynae-appointment.
It wasn’t always this way. In the run up to my wedding five years ago I had monthly appointments with a lovely bikini wax lady who took away my responsibility for keeping things neat. Then I moved away, took a lower paid job and the bikini wax luxury was no more.
In the three years it took to conceive E, we went through nine rounds of Clomid and one miracle round of IVF. Plenty of people to become accustomed to my neither regions and a reason to keep on top of the hair situation. But since then I haven’t really bothered. And now it’s down to my knees.
Not really – can you imagine?! But suffice to say, it’s a jungle
out down there.
So this morning I decided to tackle the situation. Armed with a poorly performing trimmer I got to work – and was rewarded by the sight of a white hair. In the words of Gordon from Thomas and Friends (my new daytime viewing companion’s favourite show) ‘Oh, the indignity’.