A Close Shave

Hello, my darlings!

Do you ever have those nights where you can’t sleep and you start to get a little loopy?

The other night, it was around 3am, and I was lying in bed unable to get to a snoozy place. Everyone in the house was asleep, all was quiet, and I’d been tossing and turning for two hours. Hell, even the Puggle was at the foot of the bed, snoring.

As I flopped about the bed trying to get comfortable, I thought I felt something odd. The place of this odd is a place generally only seen by my husband and gynecologist.

Now, see, here’s the thing: After the skin cancer scare from two years ago, and the luck we’ve been having lately, feeling anything odd on my skin really super freaks me out.

My brain spiraled into a worry hole of all the things that could possibly be killing me and how I was definitely going to die because that’s the one thing that’s been missing from the last few months.

I flew out of bed and went to inspect to make damn diggity sure there was nothing wrong.

And. Okay. I was tired. Like, super tired. But it was 3am and maybe I wasn’t on top of my game.

Because when I realized there was some visual impairment in the form of, uh, shrubbery, my idea was to grab an electric razor to get a clearer view of the area.

Basically I panicked.

Mistakes were made.

I quickly realized all was well, there was nothing to be concerned about, I didn’t see a damn thing out of place.

Except that now my *ahem* area was looking a little lopsided.

And so, even though I haven’t done such a thing in like, fifteen years, there I stood, at 3 in the goddamn morning, leg balanced on the sink, trying to even things out.

I’d like to think I did pretty good work, considering the exhaustive circumstances.

But then I remembered why I stopped doing the thing.

This was not a situation in which I followed the rules of lady-scaping etiquette. I did not take a nice hot bath to prep. I did not have the proper equipment. I did not make smart choices.

I made itchy as fuck choices.

Walking about my silent house all wobbly-legged, I understood why Dean Winchester has the strut he does.

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The dude obviously takes his manscaping too far, or doesn’t prep accordingly.

There are no words for the look on my husband’s face when I explained to him the following morning what I had done whilst everyone was dreaming away.

The moral of this story is if you are super exhausted and you think you feel a weird thing on your skin at 3am, maybe don’t decide to shave the entire area on the fly.

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I hope you all are having marvelously un-itchy weeks!

Until next time,

Peace, Love, and Dean Winchester’s Manscaping

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