Flora Gill (pictured) claims seeing all of her partner's least alluring parts makes her fancy him more
By Flora Gill
Recently, I asked the boyfriend what he wanted to do for his birthday this year. Lockdown limits the options, but apparently he’d thought about it: ‘I want to wax your legs.’
I’m not sure which was the bigger driving force: ridding me of my Mr Tumnus faun look or the joy of watching me squirm and squint with every rip.
Actress Kyra Sedgwick has revealed she went one step further and asked husband Kevin Bacon to wax her bikini line, and while my boyfriend and I haven’t mastered that terrain yet, I see no reason not to.
The most obvious benefit to enlisting your partner’s beautician skills is that it’s helpful. Hair removal can be a tiresome, arduous job —especially when you can’t clearly see what you’re doing — so an extra hand is always welcome.
But the No 1 reason I endorse this unlikely couple activity is that it’s at least something to do!
Activities are ridiculously, mind-numbingly limited and repetitive right now. This, at least, would be entertaining as hell.
An unholy alliance of scalding wax, inexpert hands and private parts sounds disastrous, but I’m now so bored of lockdown that I’m moments from going full teenager and giving myself piercings with safety pins, and a tattoo with a permanent marker. Surely a little wax couldn’t hurt?
In reality, there’s a long list of things I never thought I’d do with my partner pre-pandemic, but the rules have changed. I never thought I’d fight over who went to the supermarket to buy detergent, or cry when he painted his nails silver out of boredom instead of letting me do them. And I never thought I’d put on my fanciest dress to eat breakfast in front of the TV.
Some people may argue that a bikini wax is just too unsexy a task to involve your other half, but my partner and I have seen all the least alluring parts of each other and it only makes me fancy him more.
It’s sexy to be totally comfortable together
He has held my hair back as I was ill and comforted me through the worst of a bad stomach on holiday. There’s something sexy about being totally comfortable with each other.
Who knows for how long this lockdown will continue, but if, at the end of it, the most extreme thing you did was let your partner attempt some nether region hair removal, I think you’ve done pretty well.
Although, judging by the state of my legs, don’t expect a perfectly sleek finish. At least there’s no one but him to see it.
By Hannah Betts
Hannah Betts (pictured) prefers to keep her beauty regime a mystery
As lockdown degrades womankind ever further where grooming is concerned, actress Kyra Sedgwick has admitted asking her husband of three decades, Kevin Bacon, to wax her bikini line.
The 55-year-old remarked: ‘Kevin is, like, incredibly handy. He’s really good at a lot of things . . . So we both figured, how hard could it be?’
The upshot: disaster. Looking at the dodgy moustache Kevin’s currently sporting, I can’t believe she ever considered him in any way topiary-proficient.
What a schoolgirl error for a woman of my vintage to commit.
I admit, I did once send an ex to learn blow-dry techniques with the legendary Nicky Clarke. Still, these days, I’d rather take charge of such procedures myself.
To be sure, my partner Terence may boast a certain aesthetic flair: he attended the Slade School of Fine Art, after all. But he is also notoriously slapdash, always leaving a trail of debris in his wake. Were he to cut my hair, I’d lose an eye. Put him in charge of my bikini line and I’d never walk again.
More to the point, I prefer to keep these arcane mysteries to myself. A flatmate once remarked that I am a ‘façade of femininity’ as she watched me dye my eyelashes.
He’s my lover not my feral twin. Keep it a mystery
I hold my (perfectly manicured) hands up. I am not a natural looker, and have no problem in deploying every unnatural artifice in the book.
I’m not the kind of woman to hit the sack in full make-up, as Charlotte Tilbury famously boasts, but I do have in my arsenal a complete range of sleights of hand: from exfoliation via epilation to my new, high-tech Light Salon Boost LED face mask, which makes me resemble a robot. I’m always lightening or darkening something, or lending another feature a little zhuzh.
Not only is Terence not allowed to participate in any grooming activities, he is not even supposed to know about them.
Instead, if he knocks on my door, I scream: ‘Privacy!’ and he knows not to venture inside. Similarly, I have made it clear that I do not want a ‘farting relationship’ (him, not me, obviously; I am eternally fragrant).
I will never leave the door open while peeing either. He’s my lover, not my feral twin.
Maintaining this element of mystery has never been more important than during lockdown, when familiarity has bred contempt. Besides, how else is one supposed to while away the long winter evenings than by working on one’s feminine wiles?