Wax on, Wax Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!!!!!

A bikini wax. Never the most dignifying of treatments to have to go through. It is probably one of the most personal treatments to have done. I mean the only other people who get that close to your nether regions except for your husband/wife/boyfriend/girlfriend/lover is the doctor and nurse when a) you have a smear test or b) you’re giving birth. The bikini wax can actually be likened to both of these. In some instances, it is more like a smear, mostly covered, a little uncomfortable and a bit of pain that is over in seconds. Then there are the others, where it is very much like giving birth, legs akimbo and screaming in agony as you are either burned by wax that is too hot or being tortured as the beautician seems to be having a gym work out to the hardened wax that is stuck to your groin.


Each salon is different and for those that are settled, the bikini wax can be an enjoyable experience with the same regular person, such a personal treatment on a regular basis creating a bond on a par with a friendship. I had a salon like this in Birmingham, for those of you that are based there, Nicky’s salon is above Christos hairdressers on Erdington High Street, my favourite place to this day. But since I have flown the nest, travelling around, the search for an affordable salon that will tend to my lady garden with love has been an agonising experience. Literally.

I have had my fair share of horror stories as I trial salons wherever I lay my hat.  Most have been great as they’ve cost £50/£60 but when you’re on a budget, things can get a little sticky. Pun very much intended. My bottom three rated salons to date are all in London. There was the Bangladeshi salon in Clapham, where the woman grunted at you to make your way into a tiny room, she spoke hardly any English and every time she came close, she pulled a funny face as if she was repulsed. It made me a little paranoid but I soon realised it was her problem, not mine.  Then there was the Turkish woman on Holloway Road, who kept answering her mobile phone throughout the treatment and I’m sure she took the frustration that she was feeling towards whoever she was arguing with on the phone, out on me, leaving clumps of wax for me to wrestle with in the shower later. But the worst, ever, to date, was a salon in West Kensington, when the blond, heavily tanned stereotypical ‘Essex Girl’ OWNER literally ripped me to shreds. I have never ever had agony like that before. I swear I had chicken skin for three days!

A spell of feminism was self-imposed due to the fact  that a) I could not afford it  as my London apartment was eating all the money I had, b) I found it to be  a great method of contraception (unless a pair of garden shears was magically at hand at the crucial moment, this fairy patch was a no-go area), and c) I was shit scared! There is something truly liberating in not having to put yourself through the indignity and agony of a bikini wax on a monthly basis,  30 minutes of torture whilst constantly worrying whether they are gonna make you get on all fours or spread your butt cheeks. Why should we have to go through pain and humiliation all of the time?  Just for the pleasure of men? I was making a stand for woman-kind! But…. as we all know…. this can’t last forever.


Once, a few years back, sick and tired of having to cringe at the thought of finding yet another new salon, I decided to get myself on-line to check out the DIY kits. Photographs of immensely tanned and smooth muscle men and women stared at me from the computer screen. ‘Pain Free Hot Wax’ ‘Removes every hair in one’, the advertisements visually screamed. When it finally arrived three days later, I couldn’t wait to see whether I had found the solution to my bushy botheration. I won’t go into too much embarrassing detail but lets just say I realised I was in trouble when I had to tug at every individual hair that was encased in the solidified green grunge on my pelvis around 10 times before the wax would let loose. An excruciating 20 minutes later, I had removed the two-inch of wax, leaving every hair still firmly in place. Needless to say, that went straight in the bin.

The only other option, after taking away waxing and doing the feminist thing, is shaving which taking into account, the rash, ingrown hairs and stubble, isn’t really an option at all. Thankfully, I have found a decent salon in Barcelona. The Pink Peony in Gracia. They were professional, quick and relatively pain-free. My only grumble would be the fact that I wasn’t covered at all but to date, that many human hedge trimmers  have seen my furry foo foo fun box,  she will be signing autographs soon…. maybe she’ll be a celebrity blogger after this?

‘No pain, no gain’ as the old cliché goes and I can now rest for a short while in the knowledge that I have found somewhere for my wax and it was only 15 minutes of slight pain, I’ll be smooth as a Barbie doll all month and ready to hit the beach when the weather allows it! My only conundrum now is which design to go for next…….. ;-)





People that use this word as way of self-praise, trying to glorify their boring, dull, flat lifestyles get on my tits.

Slaves to society, prisoners of the system, in the same monotonous job within the same grey colourless four walls, in loveless marriages with children that they didn’t actually want but had anyway, because….”that’s what we do…. it’s normal”. Conventional codswollop. Pah! Just the sound of the word sounds drab…. Normal…  Nor…mal….. what a boring word and what a boring way to describe yourself, let alone being proud about it.

You can guarantee that it is those that describe themselves and their actions as ‘normal’ that are the first to pass judgement on others. “Can you believe what he’s done? That’s not normal!” Just typing these words I can hear the chorus of thousands of ghosts from the past, their voices amplifying their disapproval over whatever it is that should dare to be different to them.


What we tend to forget is that what is normal to one is totally unnatural to another. A City Trader starting the working day at 7am, rising at 5.30am, running in to work, training for the next Iron Man or triathlon, ready to tackle the heated day on the trading floor, the fluctuation of adrenalin pumping through his veins throughout the day and finishing the day off in the bar. To him, this is normal but to a long-distance lorry driver, who spends days at a time in his truck, alone and sedentary, this lifestyle is nowhere near ‘normal’ for him. To a High Court Judge, it is perfectly ‘normal’ to sit behind the bench and sentence people to years of imprisonment but it could also be perfectly ‘normal’ for him to spend his evenings locked in Miss Whiplash’s dungeon, his penance for his every day life. To Miss Whiplash, it is normal to humiliate powerful men into submission and get paid a hefty sum for her time.

My point is, there is no such thing as ‘normal’ and the sooner we all eradicate this awful word from our self-description, the better. Then maybe we can begin to progress with our understanding of each other. You usually find that those that are the most open-minded are those that have chosen to deviate from the ‘normal’ path at some point in their life. Even if they return to ‘conventional,’ they will always be less judgemental of others through their own experience. Once we stop seeing our own way as ‘normal’ we can start being a little more conscientious of others.

I think those of us that are a little eccentric should start waging a war against Normal Supremacism, being tarnished with this mentality, the world will just be a colourless, drab place. That’s the way we’re heading. So I say stand up! Be proud! Be as abnormal as you can be and be what and who you are!

Peace and Love to all the weirdo’s out there – you make the world a better place!



Poetry Corner – Love is………

Image  Love is……

…..the birdsong on a spring morn

…..the cry of  a baby newly born

…..the invigorating smell of fresh-cut grass

…..the forgive and forget of grievances past

…..the sun rising high on a summer’s day

…..the sound of the ocean as you drift away

…..the warmth of the sunshine nourishing your skin

…..the taste of salt as you breathe the air in

…. the glow from the moon on an autumns eve

…..the crisp crackling crunch of the fallen leaves

……the choir of voices singing in praise

……the preparation for colder days

….. the snow that settles on a winter’s night

….. the fire that protects from Jack frost’s bite

……the magnetic energy bringing people together

…..the realisation that whatever the weather

      Love is……..



LOVE is……..not ……………..


Love. It’s a word. Happiness. Another word. They fit together. Love and Happiness. These two words, we use to describe that which we desire and aspire to every waking day of our lives. Reaching towards the eternally unreachable. We may think that we have it one day but the next day it is cruelly taken away from us. Leaving us wretched in our misery as the mind comprehends that what we thought was there, is not. We made it into what we wanted it to be. Another illusion.

By the time you’ve hit your thirties, it’s pretty safe to say that there have been lessons in love. Each of us have had our own individual experiences that have culminated in the lessons learned and cultivated our own individual wisdom. Many have experienced marriage and many have experienced divorce. There are many others still fighting to save the institution that they have made of their marriage, hiding behind the truth that it has become just that and yes, there are also many that made the right choice and married for true love which stands the test of time. Well, I like to believe that there are still many relationships like this, but as with most things, only time will tell.


There are some, however, in fact an increasing number, who have not experienced the formality of marriage. They are not planning on having 3.4 children and they do not feel that the whole world owes them something for the fact that they gave birth and added to this ever-increasing population.  What is love for these people, who are still capable of deep romantic love, yet they are loners that wander the earth. They loosen the ties, understanding more the idea that love is not a possession. Love. Marriage. Love and marriage are too completely separate things.

You do not need to marry for love. Love will be there whether there is signed piece of paper or not. Society has engrained into women in particular, the idea that they must ‘belong’ to a man. That without having a husband, she is not fully a woman. Without children, she has not reached her potential. Although the mentality is slowly evolving, religion ensures that the transition is a slow one as they preach for the union in the eyes of the lord. Yet, the God that I believe in, does not hold such formalities and the ‘law’ that it speaks of is man-made. Marriage is for bringing children into society and for the security of the spouse in the eyes of the law. That is all. No expense is spared, tears are shed and stress levels go through the roof. All for one day.  All for the sake of bureaucracy.


 Love exists whether there is marriage or not. Love exists whether there are children or not. Love stands the test of time. Love just is and there is no getting away from it, if it is present. It is part of your being, it takes over every morsel of bone and every blood cell in your stream, sending sparks of electricity to every nerve. It is not your mind. It is your soul. It is possible to love from a distance. To unconditionally love someone is one of the most beautiful things you can do. Love is not sex.  This is the test. If you are really meant to be, the universe will bring a time that is right for the union. There is no need to starve your soul of the love that it craves. Love is just being there. Love is patient. Love is kind. Love is…..


love quotes-a-true-love-store11

Me, My Blog and I

In my last post I likened writing a blog to a marriage and admitted my shortcomings and incapability of wedded bliss. It struck me that some people would completely miss the point here, not having constructed a sentence of their own since getting expelled from senior school in Year 9, so I thought I would explain my experience and probably that of all bloggers once they have exposed themselves to the world. (and……after reading my so-called Blogiversary Post, I thought I could have made it much more entertaining so I’m basically giving it another go under a different title).

Being the commitment-phobe that I am, committing to a blog is a big deal. I originally entered into this situation as a nothing-else-better-to-do ‘doodle’. A few months of unemployment and the mentally abusing circle of confusion that comes with having to deal with the wretchedness of putting yourself out on the menial job market during the freezing winter months rendered me housebound. And as with most relationships, it was during this period of vulnerability, it all started, with a bang. Me, my blog and I.

The first few months were intense.  A whirlwind of ideas, titles and witty euphemisms occupying my thoughts 24/7, each new day bringing a new subject to write about. The ideal companion, always there but never there, with me but leaving me free to roam. The excitement of witnessing the stats going up and up and up, sending adrenaline levels through the roof and the words of support for the new pairing from others, ensured the bond was cemented. I was addicted. It was all rather wonderful at the beginning. The perfect ally. Us against the world. Me, my blog and I.


Of course, as the year progressed, reality kicked in. Working 16 hour days, no longer did I have the time to invest in my commitment. I no longer had the energy for passion. Immediately the stats started to fall, those intrigued as to the washing we were hanging out in public no longer had any interest and the fireworks began to simmer down. I no longer felt butterflies in my belly and the inspiration I had felt  at the very break of day began to subside rapidly. I continued with my work but all the while I had the nagging noise of neglect in my head. My soul was crying for its mate.  I ignored it. I needed financial stability. This was crucial. this was important. I wasn’t doing this for ME, I was doing this for us. Me, my blog and I.

After a while, the guilt began to wane. Memories of commitments made were no longer at the forefront of my mind. I was wrapped in the system of wage slaves. I worked, I socialised, I had no time for ‘home’.  Wrapped up in my self-contained cocoon of emotions, I (naively) denounced my ambition but thankfully, in vain. Once you’re known to the virtual public, there is no going back. No longer did people enquire about me. They enquired about my blog. Words of encouragement to hold on to the bond that was once so strong and yet now felt so fickle and frail. No, to the world, it was no longer about me. It was about me, my blog and I.

Eventually, as is usually the case when we hold on so tight, the job went, as did the financial security and the socialising. Suddenly, I was back at square one. Twiddling my thumbs, lost in a state of egotistical confusion, I remembered that I had made a commitment to something that I had once longed for and then neglected. That something was sitting silently waiting for me to pick it back up again. I started spending a little time to see if the flame that previously burned brightly could be reignited with a new revived energy. I thought that we should relocate, start afresh so we did. A new start. Although slightly tarnished by a reminder of the fact that my delinquency had lasted a year, our anniversary proved another chance to make a commitment. My soul has been reunited with its mate and I am happy. In the here and the now. Just me, my blog and I.


Now THIS is a Day for Celebrating (and I didn’t even know……)



I excitedly logged in to my WordPress account to check my stats, only to be greeted by a big fat ’0′ staring back at me from the screen. Disappointed I scanned the page and noticed the little orange flag in the corner. Woohoo!  It’s my anniversary today. And I didn’t even know it. I started this blog a year ago to the day. I liken it to a marriage, I believe for a blog to be successful it should always be at the forefront of your mind, either that or be working in a team. Well if that is the case, then I make a terrible partner. There’s no wonder I have 0 views today. I have been scatty with my blogging.  But  things are gonna change from now one.  My life in general has changed. I have moved cities, countries even. I have learned a lot. But now, on my 1st Anniversary I am making a commitment to writing more. (And if I don’t pull my finger out by this time next year, I will sign the virtual divorce papers).  Don’t forget the book is a work in progress and should be with you all in the not too distant future   …. I hope you are enjoying my bits and bobs and to all of you that read my blog, I’d like to say, for your faith in me and your continued love and support, a very big heartfelt……..