Diary of a Desperate Wife and Mother - aged 35...and a half

I'll Have a Brazilian, or is it a Hollywood?

Saturday

Victoria's Diary aged 35 and a Half

I avoided all diary contact yesterday, old and new but I did go and see Father Joe. He was his usual self, welcoming, calm and without saying too much managed to get me to spill my guts. I do feel slightly unburdened by the whole experience and I have decided I am going to meet Steven. I text him and we have agreed to meet on Monday as he was free on Saturday but not Sunday and I had the opposite availability. I have told Paul of my plans and refused another offer for him to come with me...I need to do this alone.

Father Joe actually suggested discarding my diaries, all of them and clearly my response was a horrified expression judging by his backtracked suggestion of maybe keeping the current one and get rid of the ones of my teenage self. I'm not convinced of any benefit in doing that because the stuff that's in them is my past and those memories will still be in my head even if I don't have a permanent record of events. Father Joe isn't entirely convinced that my protests are founded in anything.

It was beneficial seeing my priest though, he has this knack for getting you to talk about your life to ask the questions you want answers to and then with his understanding nod or just the repetition of your own question he somehow enables you to answer the question too. He has helped me to see, although I was beginning to do it for myself, but he helped me to see that I built up this life I had wanted at 16 into some kind of holy grail and because the life I have and the one I live isn't that one I have managed to devalue my actual life. I can see that my actual life is so much more than my dream of a life at 16 was, mainly because my life is real and although the same thought may not have gone into it I do live a very good life with a loving husband, a nice home and three wonderful and healthy children...even my crazy dog and fur ball afflicted cat enrich my life.

I am nervous at the prospect of my bikini wax that I am due to have in about 40 minutes, well crapping myself might be nearer the mark, so much so that I am sure my knees are actually knocking. I need to distract myself so I pull out my old diary until Paul calls upstairs to tell me that Gemma is here meaning my lady garden doom is imminent.

Victoria's Diary aged 16

I went round to Steven's to discuss things. He still thinks we can make things work, not that it will be easy, but if we both want to. I do want to make it work with Steven, I love him, he is everything to me and I can't live a life that doesn't include him.

After we'd decided things were going to be ok and we'd cleared things between us we ended up in Steven's bed where we had sex. It was lovely, special, like because we were upset about things and had then sorted things out, re-planned our future that it made it different, more intense like we were making love like they say in movies or in those romance books my Mum reads.

It was as we were lying in bed together, afterwards that we ended up talking about that girl from school, the pregnant one. I was saying that although I don't want children yet, that I want to wait like we've agreed that I could never have an abortion because it's wrong. Steven tells me that he disagrees, that having a baby would be far worse than getting rid of one and then he says he is glad we're not the ones in that position because he can think of nothing worse than being saddled with a baby he doesn't want and as the decisions ultimately lie with the girl he would have no control and I have made my feelings perfectly clear.

I stayed for tea but when I went home, when Steven walked me home I felt a bit odd again, like we know each other, really well, but maybe not the important things.

Victoria's Diary aged 35 and a Half

I cannot believe what I have endured today. When the waxing lady said I'd feel some discomfort she was lying because I was in bloody agony, on the ceiling agony!

She started by chatting and then showed me through to the treatment room and left me to strip from the waist down. There was a sheet thing that I covered myself with. I felt glad of it until I realised that this lady was going to get up close and personal with my fairy. I laughed at that point, where I, a grown woman was thinking of my VJ as my fairy which is one of the terms we used when Scarlett was little. I then spent a few minutes naming it; foof, flossy, tuppence amongst others. I was just moving into my grandma's preference for the term quim when Callie, the waxer returned and proved me right that the sheet thing was pointless. I took up the offer of a local anaesthetic cream...what I should have asked for was a bloody epidural! I have had 3 children and would have another 3 before putting myself in this position again. Speaking of position Callie has had me in more positions in the half an hour I spent with her than I think Paul has in all the years we've been together! I was on my back with legs spread, on all fours and she had no shame in moving my most delicate of folds around.

There was more than once that I thought I was going to break wind...how embarrassing would that have been, although I don't think I am capable of being embarrassed anymore, not after the intimate terms I am now on with Callie or she is with me. I was on the couch on all fours with her waxing my bum, and not the outside bits either! So when I was there, displayed I actually wondered if I should have demanded a cocktail if not bloody dinner before getting this well acquainted with Callie. Although, I was paying her to do this to me.

By the time I got home to Paul I could barely walk and he had far too much fun singing an old song about John Wayne being big leggy. I swear I am never going to be able to sit down or wear close fitting clothes for a month with my fairy on fire. Paul actually ended up with beer coming down his nose with laughter when I told him that, although I had the last laugh when we went to bed and he saw the new me. Another error on my part...I decided I wanted the landing strip finish, a Brazilian, unfortunately I got my Brazilians and Hollywoods mixed up so I actually look like I am about 7 years old. Paul reckons he likes the bare look but he is banned from coming anywhere near me until I can move my legs without crying out in pain.