Saturday, April 30, 2016

Yeti

  It was a show about Yetis that finally made me shave my legs. I was watching a show on the Science channel about the  mystery of the Dyatlov pass. These Russian students went on a camping trip in the Ural Mountains. Their dead bodies were found. No one knows how they died. Some had injuries similar to car crash victims. One was missing an eyeball, another a tongue. They referenced Yetis in a journal that was found. Fifty years later, a photo that one took was found showing a Yeti like figure in the background. Then, I thought, I need to shave. This is how my mind works. 
  I shaved part of one leg with cocoa butter. I have to be careful with soap. I have a sensitive lady area. It's prone to urinary tract and yeast infections. Just being in soapy water is problematic. I learned this at a very young age with Mr. Bubble bubble wash. I always envied scenes in movies where women were lounging in the tub, their private bits covered by bubbles, as they chatted with a friend in the room. If I did this, my vag would turn into something that looked like a clown trick at a kid's birthday party. You know how couples like to have hot, shower sex? Not here. Soap would give me an infection, I'm afraid of water getting into my eyes because I think of dragons, and I don't like to get my hair wet. I've tried it a few times. One time, with an ex, we tried. He accidentally poked my butt, thinking it was another place. I think I went into some kind of shock. I almost passed out and threw up at the same time. Shower sex is not for me. 
  When you become a parent, you never experience alone time in the bathroom. That's suddenly the time they HAVE to tell you something. Especially if you're pooping or in the shower. To be taking a bath and not have a kid or cat in my face is rare. 
 The cocoa butter gave a clean shave and the emollients left a soft residue. However, it was hard to get the hair out of the razor. That could also be because  my legs looked  like a middle eastern man's legs. It had been a while since I shaved. The cocoa butter and the hair formed these weird clumps that stuck to the sides of the tub. Gross. It was too much work, in the end. I would gladly go for some permanent hair removal on seventy-five percent of my body. One of the cruelest parts of being single is knowing you're only shaving because you're sick of your own hairiness. Or, hey when I wear these short sleeves I don't want to look like I'm hiding roadkill under my arms. No man to run his hands up and down these cactus legs.