Here klitty, klitty! Time to FRY!!
I don't know about most men, but my BF really likes a clean work space when he's going down under. He's not the first to appreciate a hairless pie. I don't mind it myself as it definitely heightens the sensitivity of the surrounding area of the button he so likes to push. Plus, no hair to get pulled when your getting the key shoved in your lock!
The real issue is, what method of hair removal is the best at removing, in total, said bush? Wax? Shaving? Cream? Laser? There are several options and I have some ill favorites. They go in this order from least to most prefered methods...
1. Laser (because I haven't had it done yet, but I hear it feels like a rubber band snapping)
2. Shaving (shaving bumps/rash/cuts...enuff sed)
3. Waxing (R U Kidding??)
4. Creams (EZ...Painless...just a tad odiferous)
As you can see I prefer creams to the more painful methods. But don't let me kid you. Creams can cause pain too. Obviously if you get them in your eyes you're gonna beg for the doctor to rip your eyeballs out with pliers. If you have a cut, you're gonna swear a blue streak of "fucks," "holy fucking shit's," and "mother-fucker!" Yah, it hurts like a son-of-a-bitch when that happens.
But there may be something that is little known out there except to those of us who prefer creams. Getting it on your button burns like hellfire! Oh yes, a flame thrower has been pointed at your hoohah and DAMN does it sting-NAY-BURN your pretty little klitty to a bright pink, painful pad of flesh. Oh, Whoa does your poor little tootie hurt! Forget about your boyfriend having his fun with it. You can't PEE let alone let even think of letting him get his tongue on it!
GAWD AWFUL PAIN!
Tho I still choose to creme remove my bush, I must caution those with little or no experience using these easy to use dapilatories...COVER THE CLIT UP, SISTER!! Put vaseline or something on it! It will thank you, and so will your BF!
posted by Ms. M @ 2:26 PM
3 Comments:
Ahahah! This reminds me of a work story. Do you have the time? If not, stop reading now.
I was at work (in the ER) minding my own business, taking care of my patients, and trying to think of a way to "pay back" my supervisor for a nasty trick he had played on me the week before. He is quite the jokster, and very good at it. (I told him, at the time of the dastardly deed, that I will-in fact-GET HIM BACK! He said, "yeah whatever.") I saw an opportunity, and I ran with it. In the ER, one of the less glamorous jobs is taking "nurse calls." These are the lovelies that ask questions like "If I'm having chest pain, and my left arm is numb, and I just barfed my brains out... do I need to be seen?" Uugggh. Get a fucking clue. Anyway, I answer the phone and hear screaming, crying, complete bedlam--in between the sobs and screams I make out something about Nair, boyfriend, genitals. I think to myself--not "a wonderful world," but "HERE IT IS YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" I say in a sweet little voice, "J?"
J: "yes."
me: "There's a charge nurse call on line 2."
J: "okay, thanks."
AHAHAHAHAHHA! I look over and he has the phone to his ear, his mouth wide open, and a look of rage in his eyes!
We laugh about that to this day. It's called pay backs are a motherfucker.
That's what I tell my son TT. Somehow he doesn't believe me. I think I'll put a box of condoms in his Christmas stocking this year...
Eeeesh! The word "pubes" make my stomach turn!
Blech!
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home