Although, I WAS able to sleep with YOU...

The title of my post is to prove the point that anything taken out of context can be completely, and hilariously, misconstrued. Case in point: I was chatting online with G this morning and the subject came up about how she has trouble sleeping when she shares a bed with someone. Hence the title of this post.

In other news, I got me some sexy new darker hair this weekend. This is what my hair is supposed to look like every day. Unfortunately, this is what my hair looks like only when Lez does it for me:But more importantly and aside from darker hair, I've been doing a few things lately to improve my feminine virtues. This is your warning: if you're uncomfortable with TMI (which, if you are, I have no idea why you're reading my blog in the first place - nothing is sacred here), then this is a good time to click away.

It all started around my 25th birthday, when I decided that I wanted to try something that I've never tried before: the Brazilian wax.

Let me back up by saying that for me, short & curlies - especially out of their natural habitat - are the most disgusting thing in the world. I once had a boyfriend pull out a clump of his own, place them in front of the passenger side heating vent before I got in the car, and then turn the air on full blast when I sat down. I was covered in them, and he had to pull over because I was dry heaving and gagging so badly. It's a wonder our relationship didn't last.

That being said, you'll understand my interest in going Brazilian. Lez recommended I go see Natasha (how's that for a stereotype), the waxer at her salon. I scheduled the appointment and then proceeded to suffer through the most uncomfortable and itchy ten days leading up to the appointment.

When the moment arrived, I laid down, closed my eyes, and sucked in my breath with each anticipated strip being torn from my body. I knew it was going to be painful, but honestly it was manageable. When it was all over, I sat up and breathed a sigh of relief. I had survived! I had conquered! I was relishing the moment when Natasha said the words that I will never forget:

Natasha: Ok, now turn over onto your belly so we can do your bum crack.

Blink. Blink.

Bone Junior: My whoody whaty?

Natasha: Your bum crack.

Blink. Blink.

Bone Junior: laughing nervously. Oh, um, well, I didn't know that was part of it...so, um, ok. I apologize in advance for what you're about to see.

So there I was, laying on my stomach with my face buried in the towel so she couldn't see me burning humiliation, and trying not to imagine what the view was like from her standpoint.

I didn't think it could get any worse until she instructed me to reach back with my hands and spread my butt cheeks apart, so as not to seal them together with the hot wax that she was spreading there.

I'm serious.

I tipped her very well because I felt so bad about the view she must've had. I didn't go back for another wax until after the new year, and since then, I'm hooked. It gets easier every time, although I never quite get over the embarrassment of rolling over and giving Natasha the old brown eye.

And I continue to tip her well.