I hate my pubic hair. I hate my lack of pubic hair. I don’t know what to do with my pubic hair. As of yesterday, I was letting it grow. Today I shaved it off like a porn star. (I suppose they wax though. Owwie. So not happening here. I have my eyebrows waxed and that’s painful enough. I can’t imagine someone ripping all the hair out “down there”. That would also mean exposing someone else to my vag, which I can’t imagine doing either.)
Tag Archive: TMI
So after wearing my diaper all day, I got home and was going to swap it for a tampon. I reach for that box of tampons on the top shelf in the bathroom and…the fucking thing is empty. What retard puts an empty box of tampons back on the shelf so I would assume there were actual tampons in the box?
Oh, that must be me because I doubt my husband uses very many of them and he’s the only other person in the apartment.
So I got my period at work today. It was great because it meant I had avoided the pregnancy virus that seems to be going around lately. It was terrible because there were no tampons in the bathroom. There were, however, pads. I’m not a big fan of the pad because it makes me feel like I’m wearing a diaper.
So I had a big decision to make-feel disgusted while wearing a diaper or go out and brave getting tampons.
So the next logical step after blug plugs is anal sex, right? No, not quite. Ouch.
We still don’t use the butt plug very often. It still feels weird to me to stop the action, find the damn thing, locate the lube and then go at it again. I prefer his fingers. They’re right there, he always knows where they are. It just feels more natural, in a body parts versus plastic kind of way.
He wanted to see the sex toys I bought, I didn’t want to show him. Seems kind of counterproductive, doesn’t it? Like I bought them to use, right? With Kenya, while we were having sex. But I didn’t want him to see them. I didn’t know what he would think. I thought maybe if he saw them (I don’t know how we were supposed to use them without him seeing them) he wouldn’t want to use them and then there would be no chance, ever, of orgasming.
My husband and I were at Colonie Center last weekend shopping after eating chinese buffet. (I was also tricked into buying three boxes of Girl Scout cookies. By “tricked into” I mean that I saw the table with the cookies and threw myself at it. There are few things better in life than Samoas.) I was due to get my period in a few days so I wasn’t feeling too hot.
My husband was looking to shop somewhere and I wasn’t feeling so good so I said I needed to find a bathroom. He reminded me that we had been in the one at Macy’s a few weeks before so I should try there. I walked as calmly as possible to Macy’s.
For the most part, obviously being honest is always best (unless it’s something trivial and subjective- like if I asked someone whether they liked my new haircut and they didn’t-then lying could be the best approach). Sometimes it’s difficult to be completely honest when I’m writing without the veil of complete anonymity.
For example, I sent the link to one of my friends (because for whatever reason she likes reading things that I write) and my husband (because he made me). The thought of perfect strangers reading that my first period more closely resembled poo than blood doesn’t bother me at all. Strangers don’t know me, but my friend does, so then I start wondering whether she’ll think I’m gross or weird. So then I start thinking that it’s TMI and she shouldn’t be reading it at all. Or maybe I should censor myself. (But what would be the fun in that?)
But if I don’t even want my friends (or husband) knowing these things about me, what makes me think that it’s perfectly acceptable to tell anyone else that happens to read it?
