|what an idiot! oh, wait.|
I say "timely" because today, just before I received this email, another accident happened. I showering in my own shower, which was very nice, because I haven't done that in two weeks, and nothing beats a shower with your own months old pubey soap. During said shower, I looked down and realized that maybe it would be reasonable to take things down a notch. Trimming is a thing, I remembered, and once upon a time, it was a thing I did too. So, I began to trim, but I've never been good with scissors. When I looked down again, it looked like I had the mange. The mange is no bueno, so I thought, I dunno, maybe I'll just start from scratch? and grabbed my razor.
My first mistake was this whole "when I looked down again". I realize now that it is a dangerous thing to shave the entirety of one's vagina without really keeping one's eyes on the metaphorical prize. There is a lot of delicate and important shit there. In my defense, part of this is strategic. A lot of vag shaving is done by feel, like how one would straddle and shave a bucking sheep--you can't see all the parts, so you just gotta go on touch!--and I've done both of these things at least once before so I know what I'm talking about. Mostly, I'm a terribly impatient person and have better things to think about than removing hairs from delicate whorls, even while in the midst of said removal. Also, I hum a lot in the tub. Takes concentration.
Anyway, one thing led to another, as things are wont to do, and when I looked down again, my pussy looked like it listened to Skrillex. Half of the hair was gone, but not in a way that made any sense. It looked intentional, pseudo-punk, and highly irritating. No part of me listens to Skrillex. This would not do. I had no choice. I just kept going.
This was all a mistake. I realize that now. I've been having my period for twelve days and counting, so if I had left my Skrillex vagina as is, it wasn't like there was a danger of anyone else seeing it. I'm not sure if I'm miscarrying very verrrrrry slowly or if I'm just experiencing some kind of Biblical-level bodily plague this summer--first that terrible cold, then that terrible barfstorm, and now I'm slowly bleeding to death--but at any rate, blood loss accounts for at least half of my poor decision making.
When I got out of the shower, I very thoughtfully rinsed down the drain what would have appeared to my roommate to be the remains of a baby Bigfoot. Speaking of babies, people talk about shaved lady parts on grown women looking prepubescent, infantile, creepy? I would disagree. My vagina does not now look like an infant's vagina. My vagina looks like an actual infant, raw and in need of gentle care. Like, I think it might look up at me and peep.
When I got out of the shower and was putting on some lotion, because I heard somewhere that is good for one's skin, I rubbed some on my new cooch. This was unwise. You understand why.
Today, I learned many things. For example, one of my friends just informed me that buying new underwear is not a tricky clever way to avoid doing laundry, because underwear, especially the cheap packaged ones, are made in sweatshops, and everyone knows that in sweatshops, people sweat. DUH. So now, I'm wearing my new child-laboror-sweatsoaked-underwear on my new vag, and it's twelve hundred degrees in this godforsaken city with a humidity percentage commonly found inside of a mouth. Have you ever eaten a Hostess Sno Ball, those pink and white, puffy, sugary little coconuty friends? Have you ever watched one of them sweat gently in a tropical midday sun? I have done the first but not the second, but the second is what I imagine is going on right now inside of my liberal-sin underpants. It's going to be a great day at the office tomorrow, what with sweating and sitting for nine hours in with a newborn attached between my legs. At least I now know that the "Painless Waxing Boutique" now offers facials as well as waxing! Maybe my beautiful waxtress can do something for my 'stache, since the lord knows there's nothing she can do for me anywhere else.