Weed Whacking - I Must Confess

I Must Confess... I am not ready for Spring.

There is nothing as pretty or as uplifting as the first few days of spring. Warm air, blue skies and freshly burst blossoms.
Ahh .. the serenity.

At this time of year I am overwhelmed by the urge to kiss the baby blossoms,  race to the chemist for Zyrtec and then the supermarket for extra strength wax .

It's time for the annual spring clean.

Not of the house mind you. Nope, the house has been just fine all winter. Floors mopped, bathrooms cleaned, kitchen sorted.
No, the spring clean I'm talking about is the Annual Weed-whacking, fake tanning, Get-ready-to-bare-your-skin event that takes place in the first week of September across our fine nation.

It's all very well, while snuggled in the Blue Jeans, woollen jackets and Ugg boots of Winter, to imagine that your lily-white shoulders and bikini line will never see the light of day.
But ,with the first warm days of Spring comes the realisation that there is maintenance to be done. In fact,  maintenance should have been done over winter and now we are looking at a total rebuild. A PAINFUL rebuild.

I prefer the  D.I.Y. approach to the great Winter Weed Whacking, because, lets face it, getting your girlie bits out in a beauty salon and hearing shocked gasps is not pleasant. Nor is it fun when your freshly graduated beauty therapist tells you she is going to have to ask for a Senior Consultation on this tricky job. Why show one stranger your Lady Garden when you can have a room full of strangers discussing the best plan of attack?

The D.I.Y. version is a private undertaking, usually aided with a couple glasses of whatever is available in the alcohol cabinet. Because ripping pubes out hurts. Those ads showing some tanned beauty smiling serenely as she Epilady's her hairs away are a crock of Sh*t. The ads where a pretty young thing whisks her (non-existent)  underarm hair away as she laughs into the camera are telling great big whopping lies.

Trust me when I tell you NO-ONE laughs as 500 hairs are simultaneously ripped out of their armpit. That is just not a funny thing. Watching someone else have it done- Hil-ar-ious!! Experiencing it yourself... not so hilarious.

DIY waxing comes with it's own special dilemmas. Sure, no-one is there to judge or gasp, but this also means no-one is there to reach the tricky bits. It takes some fortitude and brashness to apply a wax strip to an area of VERY delicate and sensitive skin and then willingly rip it away. The fact that the puppy dog is lying on the other side of the bathroom door, howling in unison with you, is a very good indication that THIS was not a good idea.

Grand ideas of a full Brazillian get rapidly down-scaled to being a minimal tidy up of any area outside the bikini zone.

And then once finished, you discover that instead of a silky smooth "Lets go to Bondi" Bikini Bod, you now have a spotty, red, angry plucked chicken effect going on.

 Very alluring !

Luckily, given the fickle weather in my part of Australia, the sunny Spring skies will give way to more rain and there will be time for the redness and plucked-chickenness to go away, before I am really expected to bare all in a bathing suit.

Are you ready for Spring?

Linking with Kirsty for I Must Confess On Mondays at My Home Truths