Bare Front-Bottoms.

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A Full Bush.

Whether it is a good thing or not, I am from the school of “Ask a Question and Get a Straight Answer” kind of club. You may recall a blog I wrote years ago about explaining the going ons regarding the Birds and the Bees. Ask me the question and I will tell you the answer. Dangerous territory is often entered.

Like the time Harry asked me what a tampon was. Ask the question, get the answer.

As a result of my approach, not a lot of questions get asked anymore. But I would prefer to arm my kids with the truth, than have myths and misconceptions bandied about the school playground, and it does.

Anyway, the other day we were driving in the car, mindlessly listening to the radio. An ad came on for a Beauty Salon, offering a free Brazilian for new clients, or some such bullshit. Harry was DELIGHTED!

“Mum!” he squealed… “Make an appointment and we can get to go to The World Cup!”

I explained to him that this Brazilian that was being referred to, was a “beauty treatment.” and had nothing to do with soccer.

No inevitably the question was asked. “What is a Brazilian?”

“It is where you wax all the hair off your front bum… you know. The vagina.”

A silence fell over the car. I could literally hear the cogs turning in his head before he popped up with…

“Why would anyone want to do that? DO YOU DO THAT?”

I told him no. I did not.

“Why do ladies do it?”

For once, I was stumped. I did not have the answer to what was quite a simple question. Why do we do it?

Why do we offer up our lady gardens to waxing ninjas who smear hot wax over the most delicate of areas, you know, up and around all of the parts, and rip that hair out by roots, leaving you to look like a strange girl-lady and weeping like a banshee, unable to sit on the toilet without getting some sort of a hideous shock, as your insulation has been removed. Please don’t get me wrong. I get bikini waxing, I just do not get why your fanny must be bald.

“Shall we go to the bakery?” I suggested. My idea was met with approval and later, as I smeared butter onto my muffin, the euphemism was not lost on me. And it also confirmed my thoughts that beauticians can stay out of my knickers.

Anyway, who do you think is going to win The World Cup?