Just when I thought I was hip (just the action of going out on a Friday night with the girls and wearing heels will do that to you), I was reminded by the conversation at the dinner table that I’m actually not.
As the topic of conversation shifted from applying to private school (kill me now), to home buying (thankfully not buying any) we then started down the slippery (or scraggly) slope of the best techniques for hair removal.
Nothing says appetizing like hot wax, right?
How did it come to this? Discussing hot lasers over beet salad?
Things I learned: they now sell micro razors for bikini lines, and that my dear friend once waxed her arm hair. Ouch.
Things I also learned: There’s something bonding about the common suffering we, as women, go through to look beautiful, or bring lovely babies into this world. No one else can understand the beauty of a smooth armpit or the comfort of a baby sleeping on your chest. We can all laugh about the time we forgot to shave our legs when we went to the beach or when the kid spit up all over our “going out outfit.” (A.k.a. me last night)
There’s some point of pride when you’re brave enough to “take it all off” or endure contractions without drugs. And while I may not have been so hip to know about the latest techniques, I felt grateful enough to have friends who could clue me in a bit. That’s about as cool as the newest laser.
