Well, I listened to everybody’s advice and visited a spa for a bikini wax.
Wow. I had no idea.
Yes, the waxing hurt like a $#@! but I figure if I can’t handle a few hairs being plucked out, then I’ll never make it through labor and an episiotomy. What amazed me was the overall spa experience. It was pretty magical. I guess I just had never been to a real spa before. I didn’t realize how special they make you feel.
When I got there I was early and as I was perusing the many products that they have to sell in the lobby, a technician came up to me and touched my arm in that mothering way that some people have. It’s like they just ooze caring and love out of their pores or something. These kind of people make me cry. I once had a yoga instructor who could make me cry just by re-adjusting my body to help me get in a pose correctly. Maybe I’m starved for physical contact. I hate to admit that but maybe it’s the truth. And nobody better say anything about that being Toby’s job because I am officially declaring that subject off limits. No offense to anybody suggesting Toby put lotion on my legs. I got a good laugh out of that one.
After I checked in, another technician took me back to the “quiet room”. The “quiet room” is a smallish room with bronze colored gauzy curtains hung on the walls. The only light sources are some very dim wall lamps and a collection of electronic flickering candles in the faux fireplace. Except the faux fireplace doesn’t look very faux because the light it so low you don’t really notice that it’s just made out of a mantle and some fake tile. In fact the lighting is so low that you forget you are actually in a strip-mall box of a room that they have converted into this magical shrine to relaxation.
There is music playing from everywhere and birds sing quietly. On a counter nearby is a sweating pitcher of ice water with cucumber slices floating in it. Above the mantle is a painting of a woman sitting on a bench with her head bent over her lap and onto the seat beside her. She looks like she’s sleeping. There are flowers in her hand and petals falling to the ground. I must have stared at that painting for ten minutes or more trying to figure out how she could look so relaxed in such an awkward position. Whatever it was, it made me feel relaxed too. I took off my high heeled clogs and let my smelly feet air out on the soft ottoman in front of my chair. I even noticed a box of tissue beside me. What’s that for? Will there be a shrink session too and I’ll really have a good cry? And then I scolded myself for thinking such a silly thing. The tissue is probably for wiping wax off your various body parts or cleaning out your ears or something. I realized that I spend way too much time thinking about things and not relaxing. I mean, who notices that the faux fireplace is not a real fireplace? Sheesh. It must be my super stealth spying skills. Sometimes I just spend way too much time looking at things.
I closed my eyes and took in a few deep breaths.
And then it was time for my bikini wax. A tall woman with stubby blonde pigtails called my name and lead me into another dimly lit room with the same piped in bird music. She gave me some paper panties and told me not to be nervous. Of course her words were in vain and I was sweating like a pig because I was so nervous. All I can think is: this woman is going to wax me in my private parts and it’s going to hurt hurt hurt! I try to think of the quiet room and the birds and the very nice people and how all my other friends do this and they think it’s totally normal. It can’t be that bad, I tell myself.
In the end it didn’t take very long and it wasn’t all that awkward. Just a lot of flinching. The only awkward part was when she asked me if it looked okay and I couldn’t say because I can see zip because my gigantic belly is in the way. I guess she didn’t have a mirror. I told her I was sure it was fine. It was over, that’s all I cared. I got dressed, paid my thirty bucks and went home.
AND THEN I examined the merchandise in the privacy of my own bathroom. Oh my goodness! I look fabulous. I’m totally hooked. I am never going back to my jungle woman ways again. In fact, I’m so hooked on the whole spa experience that I’m already plotting to save up enough baby sitting money for a $90 “mother-to-be” pedicure. Imagine what that might be like… Just don’t tell Toby.
Things are getting boring here on this blog. So I think it’s time for another update on the PREGNANCY WATCH 2006! [insert suspenseful new-breaking theme music]
Hmmm… well, I’m feeling big and fat and awkward. No new news on that front.
I’ve come to the conclusion that somebody should invent an arm extender for pregnant women. I know they have extender arms for grabbing and getting items off top shelves, but I need something I can use to I can put lotion on my legs. Maybe somebody could invent a soft version with massaging capabilities. Is that possible?
I can’t reach my feet or ankles because my giant beach ball belly is always in my way! I have to hold my breath and squeeze my baby just to reach my knees. The lower half of my body is feeling very neglected! Shaving? What’s that? If I can’t see the hair, then it’s not there. Every day I day dream of going to a spa and getting the works done. If I was having back pain or shoulder tension, I’d already justify spending the money but I’m feeling surprisingly pretty good. I just want to pay somebody to help me take care of myself. I never wanted a bikini wax before but lately… I’m thinking I might be up for the pain. I just feel like I’m letting myself go.
Little things, like picking up toys off the floor when I babysit, really do me in too. I know, I know… I should tell the little munchkins to put their own toys away. And believe me, I do. But they just aren’t as efficient at cleaning up as I am. If I left the clean up process to them, they’d be up three hours past their bedtime and the house would still be a mess when their parents got home. I’m sure when it’s my own kids I’ll be scolding and screaming and laying down the law but with other people’s kids… I just can’t do it. So I huff and I puff and I’m probably going to have a misshapen baby because I keep squeezing her so much.
Actually I’m having a very average baby and the squeezing seems to be having no adverse effect, good thing.
You know how my doctor never ever volunteers any interesting information unless I extract it from her with a million probing questions? You know how she barely says anything and I always feel like such a dork asking so many questions? Well, at my latest visit I got a gem of information. An absolute gem that I’ve been savoring for days!
I was telling her that I feel like I’m extra big for how many months along I am and how some friends of mine (who are due before me) are actually smaller than me. I told her I was worried that I was having a TEN POUND baby because that would be the only explanation for this GIGANTIC belly that is constantly in my way. She laughed at me like she always does and checked my file. “No,” she says looking over her librarian glasses, “you are having a very average baby. She’s in the 52nd percentile and you can’t get much more average than that.”
My baby is in the 52nd percentile! Well, how about that! I’m having a totally normal, on schedule, average size baby. Not too big, not too small but juuuuuuuuuust riiiiiiiiiight. Hmmm… I guess I’ll be pondering that for the next two weeks until my next appointment. We’re just full of exciting news around here.
Something else happened that is somewhat newsworthy to me. I think I should put it below the fold because I think some readers (who are not old-hat-experienced-mothers) will find it gross and disgusting. I find it absolutely fascinating.
I was reading something about breast feeding and how your colostrum kicks in during the third trimester. This was interesting news to me because even though my boobs have been getting bigger and I now sport some fancy stretch marks that look like racing stripes on the sides of them, nothing much has been happening in that area. Especially any kind of liquid coming out. It says in the article to squeeze your nipples to see if you have any trouble with your nipples extending outwards. Apparently some women suffer from inverted nipples. This squeezing motion will simulate the baby sucking.
So since I’m up at the crack of dawn and I have the whole house to myself, I decide to do some squeezing to see if I’m going to suffer from any inversion. AND GUESS WHAT!! Nothings wrong with me! Something came out in fact! Little drops of yellow stuff! I’m totally turning into a mom already!!!! I’m really going to do this! My boobs make stuff.