Love and Hair Removal

I asked for a guest post and I got one. Much to the utter amazement of you all clamoring to jump and be the first by filling my inbox with your stories ( read : you all suck and are lazy. but, I love you anyways) I picked this one. Come to think of it, this is the ONLY one that was in the queue. I knew I could count on Lilly. She brings us a post about her mishaps that I can fully feel her pain on. Personal grooming. If you read my Manscaping 101 post, you know what I'm talking about. Evidently this dilemma is bigger than all of us combined and transcends sex race creed and clown shoes. Thank you, Lilly for not being lazy like me. Let's all sit back and see what she has to say about the whole matter.....

I hate shaving. Anywhere, really, but particularly down south. I also hate excess body hair. Since waxing is out due to the cost factor, I've tried numerous other methods. Nair and similar don't work very well on me as my skin is extra sensitive and by the time the hair is removed, I have a mild chemical burn. Sexy, huh? So, shaving it is. Except that I'm not some skinny flat-stomached girl so it's a real chore for me to do it on my own. I usually cut myself because I end up angling the razor the wrong way. Needless to say, despite my aversion to hair, I don't keep up with it regularly. My fiance doesn't mind if it's merely trimmed, so shaving is special-occasion only.

Last weekend, after letting things go for a bit too long, I decided to tackle it with his trimming razor. The electric sort that has different attachments. One of which is this plastic guard that's adjustable, I guess to trim beards. And pubic forests.

Well, I had never used it before and wasn't very familiar with it. I didn't know that it was adjustable but I figured it was set to whatever he used to trim his goatee. Away I go. So far, so good. Then I get way down between my legs. I hit a spot that hurt but I assumed that the razor just yanked a hair out by the root. Brought the razor up to tap out excess hair and I noticed a spot of blood on my finger. I didn't think much of it.

Why oh why didn't I think much of it??

I return to business. The NEXT time I bring the razor up....the clear plastic guard is covered in blood. So are my fingers. This is the point where I figure I need some help. I open the door and call to my fiance.

"Um honey....can you come here please? I think I might have cut myself....kinda bad...."

He told me later that I really scared him here with the next bit.

He comes in to see me naked and a bit bloody holding an electric razor. I quickly explained what I did, and he looks at the razor. Big sigh. In an exasperated but concerned voice he tells me that I had it on the lowest setting, which is basically like not even having the guard, and why on earth would I do that?? He gets down to look.....and there's silence. Followed by "get in shower right now and rinse off the blood."

I'm starting to panic. Me and blood don't mix.

A few Thanksgivings ago, I had an accident with a mandolin slicer. I was slicing up carrots, and you can't use the guard on carrots. I ended up slicing off the corner tip of a finger. No one was around, and in the 5 seconds it took for the blood to start, I calmly raised my voice and said "Um, I think I might have cut myself kinda bad...." Cue blood. Cue screaming. I'm on my knees in front of the kitchen sink (so that I don't have to see it, at all) while he holds my finger under the water, and in short order my mother is useless as she lays down on the bathroom floor to prevent passing out and/or puking. It's just my poor fiance with no first-aid training. I ended up refusing to go to the ER as it was 3 hours till dinner. Not that there was a whole lot they could have done.

So we've established that A: I don't like blood 2: I'm a big baby and I panic.

As I'm holding the shower head aimed at my injured hooha, I look down to see very pink water. Seconds tick by. STILL very pink water. And my fiance looking very concerned and gently chastising me for using the razor that way. At this point I really freak out.

Through tears all sorts of scenarios are running through my mind.

OMG, what if I shaved off a thin layer of skin?!?!

WHAT IF I NEED STITCHES ON MY HOOHA?!??!!? HOW will I explain this?!?

Cue hyperventilating.

He hands me a few paper towels with instructions to apply pressure. What do I do? I keep checking the damn paper towel. It's getting kinda bloody. I'm kinda crying. OK, I'm having a bit of a meltdown.

He takes me to the bed where I can lay down and he can have a good look.

As he's 4" away from the presumably mangled area and I'm awaiting the verdict he says:

"Yikes."

We have silence. My eyes bug out of my head and I think I quit breathing for a minute.

YIKES???

WTF Do you mean, YIKES?!?!?

Perhaps it is because we're not parents and he hasn't seen the trauma of childbirth. Perhaps this explains his sheer dumbassery in uttering that word as he's currently got his head closer to that area than my damn gynecologist usually is.

After I can breathe again I ask how bad it is. He says it's not really all that bad, he guesses that it just bleeds superficially similar to head/face wounds. It's more like a few paper cuts. He smears on the Neosporin and gives me a look that says "don't ever do that again".

This is real love. He can do all this for me, and the next day still wants sex and a whole lot of foreplay.

I'm wondering how much laser hair removal costs.

Moral of the story for the men: I don't care WHAT the situation is. I really don't. Fake a calm demeanor and never ever ever say "Yikes" or similar when your face is mere inches from her crotch.

Never.

Good job, Miss Lilly. Sorry to hear about the self inflicted butchery on your end. Then again, at least you weren't dumb enough to splash the whole thing down with aftershave. Anybody? Anybody? OK, just me then. Ya live and learn, folks.

Lilly ~ fun for all ages

Lilly ~ Fun for adults only!

Lilly's pretty sparklies.