Being back in the land of the living is brilliant. Being back at work has it's challenges, but not having to suffer my own company day in and out is great. I get to go out for coffee, my mind isn't concentrating on becoming better and I'm not reliant on strange, droning Americans on the television for entertainment.
What I am missing being back at work is some of the strange conversations I was having over the time I was off.
Also, as I've been banished from talking about my pending trip overseas at the moment, as most of my friends are rather envious of the fact that I'm spending five weeks overseas from the tenth of October, I'm used to finding other things to talk about.
The one conversation that keeps coming back to me is a chat session I had one afternoon with an old university friend.
What can I tell you about about Kip? Well, we were at college together. He was a nice guy from a large country town. I always had a bit of a crush on him, but he always had a girlfriend, but he was always nice to me - a bit of an unlikely ally. He was also just my type, but we're going to go into that. He thought I was a bit of a nutcase. I thought he was a bit square, but you study Law/Economics, you're gonna get that.
Kip and I have been chatting for a while since reconnecting. We've exchanged stories, I've heard about his wife and three kids. He's got to know about my tarot reading and all the weird and wonderful things I do to keep myself occupied. He offered an ear when I was going into surgery. And we had a chat while I was recouperating.
Unlike many men, he appeared concerned and interested about what was going in my belly, asked some relevent questions about the operation - it seems his wife had something similar a few years ago. Then from out of the blue.
"So, before you went into surgery, did you get a Brazillian?"
"Um, Kip, why?" I felt my cheeks reddening and a state of confusion coming on.
"You know, make yourself nice for the doctor."
Am I missing something here?
"You think I need to get a Brazillian before having surgery on my stomach? Why would you say that? Besides, my surgeon is a woman."
"I thought it's what women did."
"No, Kip, not this 42 year old, rational woman."
"Oh. Well I can think about it."
"Um, you can Kip. But I have no idea why you would want to. Why would I want to inflict that sort of pain on myself to make it look like I was twelve years old downstairs?"
"Must be a guy thing."
"You don't say."
I don't get this Brazillian waxing obsession. I really just don't get it.
Okay, pubes are pubes. Not particularly useful, not all that pretty, but it's a part of most people. There is the old adage that it's a lot like parsley, to be moved out the way before you keep on eating (sorry, favorite dirty joke)
Also, having a trace of Mediterranean blood in me, I've been battling dark body hair since my teenage years. After working out early that shaving only turned the leg and armpit hair to the consistency of copper wire and made your legs look like a wire brush after three days, I discovered waxing. And I've been waxing ever since. Every six to eight weeks I submit myself to the indignity of having the hairs ripped out from to roots from my legs and armpits. It keeps the hairs finer and lighter too, which after nearly twenty years of waxing has had the effect that there is very little left. And it doesn't hurt anymore. Only took ten years.
But when it comes to the "intimate" area, okay, keeping it tidy so it doesn't look like you have steel wool coming out your bathing suit, yes.
Making your snatch look like that of a prepubescent girls. No. Eww.
I just don't not only why men find absolutely no hair down there attractive. Trimmed, tidied yeah fine, but not the whole lot. It was put there for a reason. Unsure why, but it was. Just like we weren't given holes though our cheeks, lips, labrets or belly buttons.
Maybe this Brazillian thing is just another body modification trend. And okay, it's not as scarring as piercing or tattooing, but it still EFFING HURTS having wax spread over your nether regions and ripped out by some sadist who works at the local hairdressers.
Would love to ask a man to wax his balls one day, see what he says (and yes, fully aware that it happens).
This is what I asked Kip in response. So, women get these Brazillians, would he do the same downstairs?
The answer was a resounding,"No. My nuts would look like a plucked chicken."
I rest my case.