I do have to get a bikini wax, though. It will be in the 90's where we're going, and I think I will have no choice but to get in the lake to cool off. That means bathing suit, which means bikini wax. Have you ever had a bikini wax? Its a complicated experience. First, I get mine at this spa down the street where many women go to get massages and facials and have relaxing experiences. Waxing is not relaxing. Then I have to strip down and put on these little paper panties. They are one-size-fits-all, but what they really are is one-size-fits-all-thin-people, and they go straight up my butt. I don't know what kind of modesty or dignity this kleenex on a string is supposed to give me, but it actually takes away any dignity I may have had to begin with. Last time I finally insisted on keeping my own underwear on; enough is enough. Then there is the chit chat. I don't really like chit chat, but I'm really good at it. When you go to a new person, a waxer, hair dresser, masseuse, and you chit chat the first time, you've set the precedent for future chit chat. I chit chat with my waxer. She's a nice enough person, but its weird to have someone ask you about your summer while spreading hot wax near your girl parts, and then RIPPING it off. All in the name of beauty. Or, in my case, all in the name of not offending other campers with my tarantula crotch.
Suddenly, thoughts of camping stuff are flooding into my brain. Like how I have to pack up the pancake mix, and get a smaller container of milk, and that I still haven't solved my camping table dilemma. I have to go to the post office. I need rolls. What am I thinking sitting here in my PJs going on and on about bikini waxes? I have to get my rear in gear!
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