Bubbly and Brazilians.

I'll cut to chase, I am not referring to Brazilians as in the inhabitants of the country.

I'll also end your worries that I will post pictures, because I won't.

During the 11 days of Traci's 30th, my girlfriend Jen, and I decide it would be great to go get all the follicles covered by our panties irrevocably irritated and yank the hair right outta 'em. I managed to chicken my way out for several weeks declaring a myriad of issues like:

1. I need another 2 week grow out.
2. I am just too busy catching up on the Housewives of NJ/NY/OC
3. I need champagne to get me through and I gave up alcohol
4. Did I miss the appointment, again?!

Chickening out of the brazilian appointment wasn't because I was worried about the pain or embarrassed about blogging to the general population that I would be the hairless wonder. It really had to do with that I didn't feel like price shopping and the only salon that is allowed to do said procedure nearby is something outrageous like 200 bones. It being Christmas time, and the 11 days of birthday celebrating also included 11 days of shopping, meant that I felt awfully selfish doing much more for myself.

There, I said it. I do. I do sometimes feel selfish.

I knew if I tossed out that kinda dinero Mr.T may not be as excited as I want him to be when I dropped trou to reveal a, err, lesser version of myself.

But, alas, a promise is a promise. So after tennis this week I will have a chilled bottle of bubbly and empty passenger seat and a date to have hot wax dribbled all over my lady regions. With a girlfriend in the next room over to share shrieks with.

Don't you wish I was your friend, too?