My husband often tells me that he is so incredibly thankful that he’s not a woman, considering all the upkeep we females put ourselves through to look good. Let’s take bikini area maintenance for example. Men can just let it all hang out since all they have to do is pull on a pair of shorts. They could have a whole friggin’ jungle growing down there, and no one would be the wiser. Women, however, have to do some landscaping to make sure everything’s tucked into place when we pull on a bathing suit. We have two choices: we can shave or we can wax. The story I’m about to tell you will help you to understand just how and why I decided that waxing is the best (and safest!) course of action for me.
Several years ago, I came to the conclusion that shaving my bikini region was just a total pain in the ass (pun intended). There’s razor burn, stubble, and just way too much upkeep for me. So I thought it would be a good idea to start using my husband’s electric clippers. (Cue the “Jaws” theme song.) At first, I went with one of the longer guards just to make sure I didn’t injure myself. It took me a few attempts before I got the hang of it, but eventually I did. And I gotta say, I did a pretty damn good job of trimming that kitty up, if I don’t say so myself! The problem though is that I got arrogant. In fact, I got downright cocky with it. I thought I had the whole process down pat and made the huge (and extremely PAINFUL) mistake of foregoing a guard altogether one morning.
As I was trimming away, I must’ve gotten the blade off kilter because I suddenly felt a serious twinge of pain. I looked down to see a pool of blood forming on (get ready for it….) my CLITORIS! HOLY FREAKING MOTHER OF SHIT!!!! What the hell had I just done? Had I just permanently damaged my pleasure principle? You may not know this (and why the hell would you?!), but cuts in that area tend to bleed a decent amount. No amount of pressure application was making it stop. I dabbed and dabbed, I pressed and pressed, but it kept on dribbling blood. I tried to take deep breaths, but I inevitably began to freak out. I contemplated putting a Bandaid on it, but I didn’t know how that would feel when it was time to remove the bandage. What if I bled to death naked right there in my bathroom floor? Would my obituary read, “Suburban Mom Cuts Her Clit To Death In Shaving Accident“? I just couldn’t let my kids live with that kind of a legacy.
After pressing with many wads of toilet paper, the bleeding eventually subsided, and I was left with a tiny cut to remind me of the horrific incident. When it finally healed, I shopped around to find the best damn bikini waxer in town and have never looked back again. I had to reassure my clitoris that I was hanging up those clippers for good. Luckily, with time, it’s finally learned to trust me again. So, let this be a lesson for all you shavers out there. Keep your hand steady when you’re working with fragile goods.
**This message has been brought to you by the Foundation for Clitoris Protection and Preservation.**