Fat Bottom Girl Said What

Do I look like I work here??

I figured out some time ago, that I’m “that person”.  I guess I have “that sort of face”.  The sort of face which makes everyone think I magically know where every item is located in Walmart, and that I want to know all the intimate details of their life, even if I hardly know them.

Mind you, I’m not complaining, as this particular gift has served me well in certain circumstances; in the field of counseling I was educated in, as fodder for my blog, material for some future stand-up routine I might want to do.

The one area where it really comes in handy though, is in parenting!  Of course when you’re hearing the oft times Tourette’s like ramblings of a teenager, the spewed information you really want to know, i.e. sex, drugs, rock n’ roll, will periodically get peppered with bits of knowledge you might possibly have been able to survive without knowing.

The peppered bits of late:  pubic hair elimination.

Yes, you read it right.

Two times in the last month this particular topic of conversation has come up with my son, and my nieces.

I had taken my nieces, 15 and 13, out shopping with me one day, and the subject of shaving came up.  The older tells the younger she can’t believe their mother lets her shave her legs already, because she didn’t get to do that at her age.  In response the younger tells us there’s one thing she’s not going to be shaving anytime soon, and that’s her “hoo-hah”!  I cringed, but tried to recover quickly and told her I didn’t think she should concern herself with that at her age, and then tried to segue into another topic.

Last Saturday night I was on the phone with my son, chatting about school, and his upcoming Xmas visit, and how his step-sister leaving her hairbrush on his side of the sink really pisses him off, when all of a sudden he said, “Mom, I want you to know I’m going to shave it all off.”

OH MY GOD!!

I knew he couldn’t be talking about his beard, because at 14 he merely gets a few long hairs sprinkled in various locations around his face.

I said, “You’re going to shave what??”, already knowing what he was talking about.

“You know.”

Oh lord.  What happened to him never wanting to shave it, and going so far as to tell me one time that he wanted it to be “a veritable forest down there”??

I said the only thing I could think of:  “For Christ’s sakes don’t use a razor!!  Only use your trimmers! You don’t want to slice your weiner!”

Welcome to my world.