Things I’ve Learned This Week

** Judgmental moms can suck it.

** My kids coined the phrase, “Save the drama for your mama.“

** Fingernail clippings do NOT belong on the kitchen table.

** Dirt floors would better serve this household.

** If a door says “PULL” to open, you probably shouldn’t push it.

** Watching a YouTube video of lice crawling in someone’s hair can scar you for life.

** I really shouldn’t have to keep saying, “Don’t eat your boogers.”

** Moth balls should be illegal. Pee-eww.

** I have a cooler with a baseball bat and a shovel in my backyard.

** I am classy.

** Children only want to sleep in on school days.

** Our foyer looks like a shoe factory had the runs.

** We should’ve named the dog “Asshole.”

** My son is obsessed with timers.

** Nobody truly lives on Perfect Mountain.

**”Jack and Jill” is one dumb-ass nursery rhyme.

** BP stands for “Big Pussies.”

** Google is my friend.

** It’s beyond bizarre that my waxing lady leaves the room for me to remove my pants before a bikini wax.  Hello…lady bits in your face!

** I’ll be dead before I finally feel rested.

** There are WAY too many grumpy people in this world.

** I could really use a personal assistant.

** Despite what I might think, God does not give me more than I can handle.

<< WHAT DID YOU LEARN THIS WEEK?????? >>

Things I’ve Learned This Week

** It’s not a good idea to go for a run after a Brazilian bikini wax. You should just trust me on this.

** Kids need to eat every day.  Who knew?

** I’ve forgotten which way is up and which way is down.

** Mother Nature is having a jolly old time screwing with those of us who thought it was actually Spring.

** Avocados rock my world.

** I am a human coat rack, according to my kids anyway.

** The bags under my eyes have taken up permanent residence & will now be referred to as Lucy & Ethel.

** Diet Coke is my co-pilot.

** Douchebags are just crawling outta the woodworks.  The latest?  Steven Seagal.

** My dog prefers thong underwear (to eat, not to wear).

** I will soon be pancake pavement since NOBODY wants to stop for pedestrians anymore.

** Smoke alarm batteries die at approximately 3:33 a.m.

** My son may be the longest story teller in the history of story tellers.

** There’s a wocket in my pocket.

** I will never speak true Starbucks lingo.

** “F’ing-A” is my go-to phrase when I stub my toe.

** I need to win the lottery. Like now.

** Scotch tape disappears as quickly in my house as wine.

** I am apparently not smarter than a first grader.

** Goldfish crackers are best enjoyed in the nude.

** Getting off a mountain bike is definitely not one of my strengths. (See black & blue left kneecap).

** Despite what I might think, God does not give me more than I can handle.

The Clit Cut

    

     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.**