Making it to the Top of My Own List

Holiday minus 1 Holidays cost.   I’m not talking about the flights or the accommodation or the hundred weight of toiletries.   Or the new clothes (and underwear; how does that happen?)   Plenty in the drawer and then boom!   Not enough for a mini-break, let alone a fortnight in the sun.   )   Oh no.   There’s all the preparation to account for.   Husband:   Haircut.   Me:   Cut and colour.   Foot overhaul at the chiropodist (so much more ruthless than a pedicure).   Eyebrow threading.   Spray tan (scrapped this time round after being a bit David Dickinson last time).   Bikini wax.   All this in the name of not scaring the children .   Husband doesn’t get it.   Absolutely bamboozled by a bikini wax.   Why can’t I do it myself (like I do all year).   Because I want to pay for the humiliation of making small talk whilst a girl half my age and size attacks my nethers with a level of scrutiny and precision last exercised by the doctor who sewed me back together after giving birth.