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.** 

The Party’s Over

     Thanks to Mother Nature, we had to change our 4th of July BBQ to a 5th of July BBQ.  Postponing the festivities turned out to be a very smart move, because the weather yesterday could not have been more gorgeous — not too hot and not too chilly.  Although there were a few families who couldn’t make the new date, we had a really good turnout overall with at least 75 or more people here at different times throughout the afternoon. Everyone seemed to have a blast, particularly the kids, as was evidenced by their filthy, dirty feet and scraped up knees and elbows by the end of the day — the true sign of a good party.  

     The party started with just a few families hanging around talking in our backyard, when I noticed that my husband had suddenly disappeared. Come to find out, one of my son’s friends had completely stopped up and totally overflowed the powder room toilet. It took his dad and my husband a good twenty minutes to clean up the mess.  And this was just the beginning of all the fun!  

     I was pretty adamant in the fact that I didn’t want a bunch of kids wandering around unsupervised in our house.  So, in an attempt to thwart that scenario, my husband and I positioned the long food table in front of the deck stairs that lead to the back door.  But, kids will be kids, and as the day went on, I kept noticing different groups of kids coming and going from the inside of the house. When I went to check on the situation, I found lights on throughout the entire house. Apparently, they had been snooping around in our master bedroom and even in our closets.  They had also dragged out a bunch of old bathtub toys from under the kids’ bathroom sinks.  I have no clue who was responsible for all the snooping, and luckily, it seemed to have stopped at just snooping.  Nothing appeared to be damaged or broken.

     At another point during the afternoon, my daughter decided to bring out her savings account book to show all of her friends how much money she has in the bank from her allowance.  It is a complete mystery to me what possessed her to bust this out!  Did I mention that she is only six??!! She really doesn’t have a ton of money in there, but to her, anything over a dollar means a lot.  I’m glad the child is proud of her earnings, but I really don’t think it’s appropriate to be whipping out her financial portfolio at the holiday BBQ!  

     And my poor son now looks like he went to battle after spending more time making full-on contact with the concrete than standing upright.  He must’ve come up to me three different times throughout the day with blood streaming down from some appendage on his body.  He finished the day off with a direct blow to the eye from an oversized frisbee, resulting in a big reddish, blueish scrape under his right eye.  I should’ve dressed him in red, white and blue body armor, given how horribly accident-prone the little guy seems to be.

     Overall, though, the party was a huge success.  We have some super nice neighbors who even stayed after to help us clean up the mess.  The squirrels and other neighborhood varmints will be in seventh heaven over the next couple of days as they work to clean up the remaining crumbs and food chunks that fell to the ground.  As my husband and I sat with our feet propped up eating a Dominos pizza last night, we felt a huge sigh of relief that the party was over.  Now we only have 363 days to decide if we can muster up the strength to do it all over again….

Bite Me

     

     I absolutely LOVE summer!  I love going to the beach, wearing flip flops, and hanging out in the backyard with the kids.  One thing, however, that goes along hand in hand with summer is the invasion of the mosquitos.  I am almost always attacked by the little suckers, and my poor kids, it seems, are taking right after me.  I guess we’ve just got really sweet tasting blood or something.  This year, I am becoming convinced that the world’s entire mosquito population has decided to congregate in and around our particular house.

     Every time my kids walk out the door anymore, they are instantly bitten by a mosquito or two.  And, lately, it seems that every time they wake up in the morning, they’ve added another bite or two to their expansive collection.  I have checked every square inch of their bedrooms and can’t find a single bug, dead or alive.  I don’t get it!  As much as I hate to use the stuff, I’ve been spraying them from head to toe with Off when they go outside.  I don’t know what’s worse, the potential dangers of that Deet stuff inside the spray or being eaten alive by the damn mosquitos.

     And each bite they have tends to swell into a REALLY red and REALLY large bump. They’re even getting bitten on their little faces! My daughter has a ginormous bump on her cheek, and my son has two massive ones right on his forehead.  And of course, they are whining and complaining incessantly about how badly they itch.  I listen to it ALL DAY LONG!  And telling them not to scratch is like telling a dog not to pee on a fire hydrant.  I’ve tried everything to make the itching a little less irritating for them — I’ve applied hydrocortisone cream, dabbed on Calamine Lotion, blew on them, and even put the old handy dandy “x” on the bites with my fingernails. Nothing makes it better.  I’m at my wit’s end.

     I’m wondering if the neighbors would think it’s weird to see my kids running around in the backyard wearing mosquito nets.  I’ve run out of options at this point, and I can’t very well keep them indoors all summer — we’d all end up killing each other.  So, to the little buggers who are literally sucking the fun out of our summer, can you please just buzz off already??!!