In which I go for my pre-holiday wax

So, since the last experience was positive (if somewhat surprising), so on Friday I returned to The Bloomsbury Ripper, to make my legs etc all shiny and nice for the whole time Im away.

And it was all fine. No trauma, no funny stories, just a whole overdose of girly-smalltalk and a straight-forward ripping out of the lower hair legs and some bikini lineish type hairs but not quite as severe as the last time, thank the lord.

So all is fine.

Of course, three hours later, Im back at work, which wasnt the case last time.

I go to the bathroom and there – and Im hoping this is an educational lesson for anyone thinking about delving into waxing – something a little embarrasing happens.

It seems that even when the wax comes off, a residue is left that can only be removed by a long hot shower, plenty of moisturiser or some other evasive action.

In the toilets on the fifth floor, needing a wee in one of those Ill put it off because Im so busy until I really need to go moments. Suddenly I realise.

My knickers are glued on.

My thumbs are hooked around the hip bits, there are people in all the cubicles around, and Im fighting not to laugh as loud and as hard as I want to because thats not really what you DO in work toilets. And Im trying to work out what the next logical step is.

Theres a choice to be made here. Its a fast or slow choice. and both have their up points. And also their down points. There are many more down points, to be honest; due to the physics of the case.

I wont fill you in more – Ive already let too much slip, and let us be honest, were not that kind of blog.

I say only this:

Ow.

Fucking OW.