It was not a complete Frankenstein walk, but close. After the pain came the itch. By the time I arrived in London, some of the hair had grown back in, but I felt better because at least my armpits had once been smooth. After the London trip, I attempted to keep it up by begging my husband to give me a lesson on shaving, but it was like talking to a wall. It was too far out of the comfort zone of a conservative Irish boy to teach his wife how to shave under her arms.
Summer is here again.
No special events are on the calendar, but my next challenge is to swim with my daughter. For once, my new tactic is to just be myself. All rights reserved.