So I caved.
Awhile back I announced that I would not be shaving again.
It just got too difficult trying to position the razor while trying to lean over a fantastically large bump. Some women may have the patience for such things but I do not.
I told Tom quite simply that I would not be shaving again for some time and that he ought to get used to a hairy wife. I apologized--briefly--and Tom seemed content.
Or so I thought.
A few weeks went by and he was running his hands up and down my leg.
"Oh!" he said, surprised and recoiled his hand back as though he had just touched an exotic animal.
"What?" I asked.
"Er...I didn't realize how hairy you were is all," Tom said, trying to keep his voice upbeat and free from insult.
"I told you I wasn't shaving anymore. Remember?"
Tom blinked. "Oh. You were serious then..."
Then a few days ago he was messing with my leg again.
"You shaved!" he announced proudly.
"Um..no.." I said. "My hair has just grown so long that it's flattened itself.."
Tom's face fell and he peered at my leg. "Oh.."
Because he's been so kind to me lately--taking me to Kohls and Toys R Us without my having to ask--I figured that if my libido was off vacationing in Mexico then by God, he'd at least have a clean shaven wife.
That was my offering to him.
Because the libido is long gone. Enjoying Mexican food and..I don't know...other Mexican libidos.
Some people suggested that perhaps I "give in" to Tom but it's difficult for me to do that.
On occasions when I have, he's taken FOREVER.
I'm not kidding.
It's like when I really want it he's finished in two minutes and when I want it over with he goes on..
Obviously I can't shout, "Of for craps sake, just FINISH, to hell with my breasts just FINISH!"
I decided to shave my legs.
Up the stairs I went.
I drew a bath and even added scented bubble bath that promised to make me smell of vanilla.
In the bath I went. I lathered up my leg and prepared to shave.
It wasn't easy.
I nearly drowned myself at one point leaning over my stomach to reach a particularily stubborn patch of hair. I lost my stick to the bottom of the bath and down I nearly went.
I eventually was able to finish--about forty minutes later.
It was a shock to actually feel skin against my pajama pants legs.
When I went downstairs I tossed a leg over Tom's lap.
"For you," I said.
Tom, involved in The Military Channel, barely blinked.
I was insulted.
I had nearly drowned and was receiving no attention.
"For YOU!" I repeated, lifting up my PJ pants.
"Ahh," Tom said, distracted, patting my leg.
He didn't even notice.
Annoyed, I jumped to my feet. "I shaved!" I shouted.
"Oh good for you," Tom answered, still distracted.
(I don't think he even computed what I had said. I could have told him that I had just bleached my butt hole and I don't think he'd have noticed.)
[Butthole bleaching. It happens. I read about it in one of my books set in, where else, LA. It scared me a little bit.]
I didn't speak to Tom for a few minutes. I opened my book and angrily started to read.
When a commercial popped on Tom's attention suddenly went to me.
"You hungry?" he asked.
"No," I grumbled.
I sniffed and refused to look up from my book.
"What's wrong?" he repeated, coming over to me.
I shut my book. "I shaved and was trying to show you. It was my thank you for you. For taking me shopping..since I haven't been in the mood to...have relations."
Tom laughed. "Have relations?"
I waved my Philippa Gregory book, a book about Queen Elizabeth. "Sorry. I've been reading too much historical fiction. They call it having relations or bedding.."
Tom laughed again. "BEDDING?"
I nodded. "Yes. The King will bed the Queen you see....that's what he calls it. Only in this book there is no King, as Queen Elizabeth never married..but oh did she bed other men.."
Tom's eyes widened. "You read some interesting books there.." Then he kissed the side of my head and rubbed my legs. "They feel nice."
"Thank you. I nearly drowned--" I began my story.
But his show started again and his attention was gone.
At least he has a shaven wife for the time being.