By Guest Blogger Stephanie Mannuci-Polnak

When I’m in the shower I have things to do like pull copious amounts of post-partum shed from the drain, and read and reread all of my one trillion shampoo bottles, so it comes with little surprise that shaving my legs or lady bits for that matter doesn’t exactly pull rank. I should also clarify, I don’t get to shower like normal people, I’m a mom, and that means I shower like most people use a porta potty,  haphazardly, sporadically, or not at all. To clarify, in my house when I say, “time for a quickie,” that means a shower. Hahaha, you thought a quickie was sex….that’s cute… Did I mention I have a boob hungry one-year-old sleeping in my bed? She’s a territorial pit bull, my husband can’t get in arm’s reach of me without her going rabid. I digress.

Some days I feel bad about my sasquatch like appearance, and my ratty unmentionables. Like some twisted mountain woman version of a Victoria Secret fashion show. Not really though, because instead of angelic wings, and bedazzled vijay jays, there is body hair, and a lot of milk stained nursing bras; let’s say Heidi Klum doesn’t ask me for pointers. It’s unfortunate that south of my belly button I look like a goat. The hairy, gruff kind. Sadly, there’s no separation of where the bits end and the legs begin. I keep telling myself that my husband is a veterinarian, and accustomed to loving hairy beasts.

When I met my husband, things were different, I was blindly confident, and significantly less hairy…. I had my shit together, my body was manicured, like our crotchety neighbor’s lawn. Gah, he’s a prick. Maybe when I’m retired and have little else to do besides be a jerk and wait for my dirt nap , I’ll pen in some time to mow my lawn, so to speak.

When I started dating, I was mortified if I missed a patch shaving. I would catch a glimpse of the rogue leg hairs in the sunlight, cancel dates, hide in the house, curtains drawn, afraid of the public humiliation …. Now, I will go to the beach and not even entertain wearing bottoms, the hair acts as some sort of seal skin that camouflages the muff, a natural scuba suit if you will. If I miss a patch now, I know no one gives a shit, besides, my gross kid will distract them from my body hair by picking his nose and eating it (Karen, you know your kids do it too), or my 1 year old will expose my nipples in public because she can pull my top down, and will…not…stop…nursing. Yay for me, yay for motherhood, where’s the wine?

Stephanie Mannuci-Polnak is a humor and lifestyle blogger living in Winston-Salem, NC. When she is not writing rambling sentences and abusing ellipses, Steph can be found navigating mom life on the struggle bus. Follow her work at:

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