We’ve been saving for the last four years and planning our itinerary for the last twelve months. But it’s only recently we’ve started to feel the real strain of travel prep admin. It’s like life admin but more expensive. Sort of like wedding admin but more surreal.
Anyway, we’ve made it to Lincoln. We’ve had 12 injections each, booked multiple hostels and arranged the big things in advance (like the Inca trail). We’ve sorted all of our visas, got our international drivers license, got rid of our all belongings, left our flat and given up the day job. We’ve cancelled direct debits and standing orders and transferred money into this weird but awesome pre pay Mastercard thing. The point is, we thought we’d sorted most things. That was until I remembered I was a slightly femme woman.
Sat in the back of mum and dads car (which in itself is absolutely ridiculous as I’m a 30 year old woman), I’m biting my fingers to pieces as I repeat to myself “it’s ok, they see vaginas every day”.
I’ve realised I need to get my bikini line sorted and I’ve never had this professionally done before – after all, our first stop is Miami. While I’m doing this, I’m getting pissed off at the absolute zero prep Alex has to do. He can wash himself all over with shit shower gel and it makes no difference.
So I’ve booked myself into this local beauty salon and I rock up to the front desk. There is an absolutely beautifully made-up woman and I’ve turned up without my hair brushed and no make up on. This isn’t doing much for my confidence. I’ve decided that next time I’ll do myself up as if I’m going for a night out. Mind you, that only means my posh converse and freshly blow-dried hair. Never mind, I’m in the back room and it’s too late. And all this just to sort out some unruly hairs on my foof. It’s too much.
HERE WE GO.
Fifteen minutes later and I’m like “Was that it? What the fuck was I so nervous about?”
It actually didn’t hurt and I got to keep my knickers on because I was only having an ‘extended bikini’, whatever that means. So I didn’t even need to worry about them judging my personal parts.
This is the kind of social capital that brings you confidence. No wonder women, and in particular teenage women, are so nervous about everything. Unless you have someone to guide you (thanks Kate and Lou) the world of waxing can be a pretty daunting place. But there we go, that’s my first challenge accomplished. I feel like I’m ready for anything!
Bring on the next question in my long list of travel prep admin: what type of bra can I realistically carry with me? Followed by the march of the toiletries and dealing with periods.
How’s Alex preparing? I hear you ask. He’s in the fucking pub.