We were sitting having breakfast on Saturday, reading the papers and drinking coffee. Companionably – or so I thought.
But I was wrong. I became aware that Himself was peering at me with a horrified look on his face.
“Eh, you know that salon you go to? I’ll give you a lift to it later if you like.”
“Because you’ve got a ronnie on you that a grown man would be proud of.”
Horrified I rushed to the mirror. It was true. Ok I’ve been sick and probably let things slip on the personal grooming side – but this was bad. I had a tache as luxuriant as Tom Selleck. Ok so I’m probably exaggerating a bit – but not much.
I couldn’t get an appointment in any salon – it was Saturday and they were all booked up. So ten painful minutes with a magnifying mirror and a pink Tweezerman and the job was done. But I can’t do the bits below my nose – they hurt like bejaysus. And sure no one notices them do they?
“I’m done!” I announced triumphantly to Him when I was finished.
“Come here” he said, all the better to scrutinise me closely. “No. You’re not. What about all the stuff below your nose?”
“But I can’t pluck that” I wailed, throwing myself on the sofa in despair. “It hurts!”
“What about that Immac stuff?” he enquired. “I’ll drive you to Tesco to get some if you want”.
Readers, we did not go to Tesco. Instead I slammed into the bedroom and cunningly (or so I thought) covered the lot with makeup.
“Hmmm better” he said. “But you’ll still have to go and get it waxed or whatever the hell you get done in that salon where you spend a fortune.”
In my heart I knew he was right even though I hated him with a burning hatred.
But what do you do to get rid of your ronnie? Wax, shave, hair removal cream, thread or pluck?