Weekly Photo Challenge: Growth

 

I think I need to shave under my arms:

The Hub did this (who else?).  He took my pony tail and tucked it under my top, pushing the hair out of the arm hole.  

We don’t have any money but we do have a lot of fun together 😀

I am so going to get a lot more hairvert searches after posting this, aren’t I?

 

 

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My Final Word On Hair

I had not been swimming in ten years, and when I took it up again I thought I had better bathe and shave in preparation.  I was lying in the bath thinking I looked like Julia Roberts at the première of Notting Hill…  Let me clarify: I was lying in the bath thinking my armpits looked like Julia Roberts’ at the première of Notting Hill, and I was thinking about the photos in the newspaper.  Do you suppose she was lying in the bath that morning thinking, ‘I must remember to wax my bits…oh, what’s the point?  I’ll probably be upstaged by that Liz Hurley in some dress held together with sticky tape anyway; the only way I’ll be in the tabloids tomorrow is if I don’t wax my bits…hang on a minute…’ 

The moral of the story is: if you want your picture in the paper, don’t shave your armpits.

Or so I thought, but it’s been weeks now and I haven’t had a sniff. Not even from The Sunday People, and if they call I’m telling them I’d rather apply hot wax to my skin and pull it off with sticky paper. 

I thought this up in the bath but I have a dreadful memory, which is why I write everything down.  As I was in the bath I couldn’t write it down.  I use memory aids in the form of daft pictures in my head, which is why I imagined Julia Roberts using my wrinkle cream in our bathroom. It then occurred to me that this was completely ridiculous: as if Julia Roberts would be using my wrinkle cream! The only way I have it in is if some kind friend buys it as a birthday treat to remind me of how old I’m getting, and there’s no way I’m sharing it with Julia Roberts or anyone. Next time she sleeps over she can bring her own. 

You may think I’m a little crazy but you must realise that because of television we all feel we know famous people and can thus have imaginary conversations with them. They feel like our best friends, don’t they?

Sadly, this is not the case, as I discovered the day Julia applied for the Restraining Order and swore to the judge that the first time she ever met me was the day I politely offered to wax her bits.