Today: 207.5 pounds, 3,922 steps, alcohol 3, calories 1995, sleep almost 9 hours, cleaned house (that counts as a workout, right?!), masturbation 1/orgasms 1 (so far…trying to prove to myself that masturbation is a clear key to libido revival)
I can’t be the only one who has an obsession with my own body hair, can I? It started several years back when I noticed black hairs around my areolas. (And seriously, why does my computer not know what that word is…the red squiggly line under it is disconcerting. Is areola the singular and plural form of the word? Or should it be areoli? My computer doesn’t like any of them.)
Anyhow…back to my neurosis.
When I first noticed these little black invaders, I began to pluck them. Every week or two. Then every few days. And now it’s a very regular part of my pre-shower and pre-bed routines. I cannot stand them.
I also have a rather noticeable “treasure trail” which has been aggravating me since my late teens. While it is not the only thing that keeps me from sporting a bikini (good god, there about a hundred reasons I don’t wear one), it is definitely one of them. Those little dark hairs…even when shaved…create a shadow running all the way from my naval to my overly abundant and difficult to maintain pubic hair (the shit grows like kudzu and spills past my bikini line likes it’s trying to own my thighs). Which, yes…I try to keep shaved…most of the time. Okay…some of the time. I do prefer it neat and tidy, don’t get me wrong, but it’s rather a chore, especially now that I’ve gained more than my fair share of weight and must, embarrassingly, admit that it’s not as easy to see what I’m doing down there anymore, without holding my “mom pooch” (or “cesarean shelf”) up and out of the way.
God, that was hard to write. And yes, I’m okay. It’s out there now, and I’m going to just let it be out there.
And now…as if all of THIS wasn’t enough…the ONE fucking black hair that kept popping up on my neck has invited friends to the party…and they’ve started showing up on my chin, too.
And good fucking lord, I’m having to use a personal shaver to hold the peach fuzz at bay on my cheeks and upper lip.
Why, god, why!!!!
And so, me and my tweezers go to town every morning and night trying desperately to keep my body hair in check.