Pubic Hair Picasso

I went to a new waxer last night.  She’s never waxed a shape into a girl’s pubic hair, but she was willing to try.  I just wanted a little soul patch, nothing fancy. She said she’d be a regular Picasso when she was done, wouldn’t be afraid to try the hearts and other shapes other women had asked for before.  I said, “Yeah! A Pubic Hair Picasso.”  Unfortunately, she really was–my soul patch is lopsided. lol  But otherwise she did a great job.  Except the tweezers.  Well, I guess that was good too–she is a bit of a perfectionist.  But YEOWCH!

Also went to the neurosurgeon. He told me absolutely nothing. “Well, it could have been the disc bulging slightly, or it could have been something else entirely.  Return to normal activity, if something hurts, stop doing it.  If it gets worse, see your primary care physician again.”  Uh-huh. Thanks Doc.  Glad I paid $50 to hear that.  But, at least that means I am back to running and back to normal kinky activities.  (Heh–“normal” kinky activities.)

My weekend with J was lovely. Lots of family time, my kids and her daughter, lots of girlfriend time and talk. Got to meet part of her family and got to sleep in her bed, snuggled up to her all night. Had an interesting conversation (or non-conversation) with my son on the way out, too. He asked about a text I had received, knowing it wasn’t my partner. I wasn’t sure how much he knows about my poly life.  My daughter knows A and I date others, we talk about it as a regular lifestyle choice. But I wasn’t sure about him.

“Do you know A and I have an open relationship?” I finally asked him.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure.”

“Ok, well…that was someone I date,” I said.

“Oh, okay.  Cool.” No big deal.  It was a non-issue.

I decided to take the next plunge. “Do you know that A dates J?”

This garnered a little bit of surprise, mainly, I think, because he has a 13-year-old’s crush on her. “No…really?”

“Yep.” Pause, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror. “You okay with all this?”

Another easy shrug. “Sure. How about you?”

My kids startle me sometimes with their perspicacity. “You mean that A dates J?”

“Yeah. Do you ever get worried that he might, you know, fall in love with her?”

I smile. “He does love her, sweetheart. So do I. And yes, it’s very okay.  That’s the point. Loving others.”

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Yeah,” he finally says. “Love is a good thing.”

It certainly is.

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