Girl Gang Manchester
Let’s talk about flaps · By Linda Done
Let’s talk about flaps.
Well we don’t normally discuss flaps but there is a reason. Let me give you some background.
I had this idea that now I’m working from home I could change my beauty routine, (or start one!) I should say from the outset that my skin is ok. A bit dry maybe, a bit of sun damage but I’ve never had spots and anyway I’m 58 so I’ve earned the right not to care.
I shared the thought with my daughter who had lots of samples from a Harvey Nics make up event and was willing to try them. We sat with facemasks and watched Disney. 3 hours later, I couldn’t honestly tell the difference but accept that the damage caused by 40 years of soap/shampoo and water and the occasional splash of Nivea was not going to be undone with 1 facemask so I thought I should commit further.
There are a range of bottles in my bathroom, kept purely for their cute designs and now gathering dust unopened. A closer look revealed sparkle body exfoliating cream, body beautifying milk, body blender and Serbo facial balm which I realise might make some aficionados out there go weak at the knees but I have no clue what to do with any of them. After my shower the next day I lavishly applied the body lotion that came with a Christmas perfume gift pack. It might not do anything but at least I’d smell nice. I asked my husband’s approval – he agreed I smelt lovely, but the illusion could be further enhanced by reaching for the razor when next in the shower.
I should point out I have worn strong glasses for at least 10 years. If I can’t see it, it isn’t there. Shaving has gone way down the priority list.
Obligingly I took the razor (his of course) into the shower the next day and stroked my skin with the blade. Later with my glasses on I saw all the bits I’d missed and vowed to do a much better job next month. I also noted that my pubic hair- or what’s left of it (Yes that’s right girls; sod the shaving it falls out anyway) was way off the lines. I asked my husband for assistance. He said no.
Whilst my husband has been known to do some gardening he seems reticent to get involved with the maintenance of this particular bush and as I have varifocal glasses, my accuracy is suspect and I’m worried that I might actually trim my flaps, so having trimmed the out edges back into the confines of knicker lines I decided to investigate the need for further trimming with a mirror.
So I stand here before you all
Scissors and mirror held high
To prepare my own little survey
Of how things naturally lie
Dear friends it was not a good plan
The view is too much to bear
Gone are the youthful petals
Folded gently over secrets in there
I now sport semi-dried figs
And they’re not a terribly good fit
The colour match is outrageous
And they’re loose and flapping a bit
The trim I’d performed earlier- not as thorough as I’d hoped
Grey tufts everywhere
My hairline has clearly eloped
So I’ve abandoned the need to trim
And I’ve had another thought
I’m off to buy new knickers with extra gusset support!