I have to first apologize to the 31 people who emailed me, the one person who posted something on my wall, and the 2 people that sent me a FaceBook message over the course of last night and today asking me where the fuck I was last night. Maybe they could care less where I was per say, but they were DEVASTATED that I neglected to post something last night. Especially after I left yall hanging with brain tumor talk. But I have a good reason!!
It started with a migraine (appropriately enough) and ended with....the flu! Yay! I'm on day two and feel worse yet this evening but here I am. Not letting a puking-every-15-minute-flu bug let my precious lamb whores and goat sluts down another night! Hang on...
OK! I just puked up Sprite. Excuse the smell.
Anyways. I always think it's really freaky when a blog I follow talks about something I had already planned on talking about, because then I think maybe my brain tumor wannabe in progress blob that is currently posing as a brain is sending out waves. Which is weird because don't you need like, an antennae? Or a microwave? I don't know. You need something. And I'm not all about to get science-y on you but just know that Julie from Mom Taxi Julie posted about this today. Because I think she gets me. Which also freaks me out that there could be more of me out there. I mean, let's all take a minute to reflect on what that means.
(While I puke again)
More Sprite. (And I only drank like three sips- so far you'd think I had a gallon. Dang.)
I think I've talked briefly about my serious compulsion with shaving my legs before. In fact I know I did but I'm not in the capacity to look for any more links. Deal with it. But I remember being really little and being completely in awe of my mom and her smooth legs. I remember feeling them and thinking they were so soft and so smooth while my little 5 year old twigs masquerading as legs were hairy. Not like ape hairy but normal for a 5 year old with enough stubble for me to hate it.
God dammit- I wanted to wear short shorts like the girls prancing on the beach in the TV commercials for Nair. (Sing the song while I puke again).
Of course, my mom being a responsible parent would not let me shave my legs at age 5. But I remember the day I was 10 and was fed up with this hairy leg shit. I mean I was done. I was noticing boys on the playground and I don't care how old you are- you need to secure your place as a cute girl right from the get go otherwise you are going to be "that girl" that everyone calls the Hairy Ape. And that? Was not going to be me.
So I decided to shave my legs one night. It seemed pretty self explanatory. I stole my mom's razor out of her makeup bag, and read the instructions on the shaving cream. I was getting an A in English and Reading Comprehension so I felt pretty confident I could read instructions. So I got going. I'm lathering up and already loving the experience. I was doing great. Until I got to my knee. I obviously butchered my knee not realizing that you have to go slower. I shaved my thighs. I'm loving this and wondering why I didn't just take this bull by the horns years before.
Then I decided I had to do my ankles. I mean- hairy ankles is almost worse than having an entire hairy leg. So I got one ankle done and realized that having super bony chicken legs is putting me at a disadvantage. I nicked my left ankle pretty bad which was unfortunate because I didn't take into consideration that running water pushing shaving cream soap into an open wound hurts.
But like a soldier, I marched on. I got to my right ankle. The inside, no problems. The outside? Well I'm not sure what happened. Maybe I panicked. Maybe I slipped. Maybe I had a super fast, unpredictable seizure. Maybe I just suck. But I do know I made a 5 inch GASH into the outside of my ankle. Blood is everywhere. I knew in that exact moment that I am going to be in so much trouble it's ridiculous. I get out of the shower and am applying my towel onto the wound hoping it wasn't deep and I could just make it stop. After 15 minutes, my towel is so covered in blood I briefly decide I'm going to die as a result of shaving my legs.
At ten years old.
After 45 minutes mom is banging on the door. She's pretty pissed and telling me that hogging the one bathroom in the house is not cool and that someone had to shit. So I covered my ankle in a ton of band aids, put on my pajamas, ran to my room. I wrapped the towel around my ankle for the entire night and when I woke up- it stopped bleeding but look horrible. I pretty much was gagging at my own wound.
Because I? Am a pussy like that.
Fast forward like three days and my mom asks me what happened to the towel. I act dumb because I'm not about to admit I fucked up my ankle and ruined a towel in the process. Being in a family that didn't have much money we had limited towels, so one going missing is a big fucking deal. Little did I know my mom already knew what happened.
Because in my haste of stopping the bleeding, I left the shaving supplies out and the trail of blood in the tub, over the tub, on the rug, on the toilet and across the floor. So smart I am. Clearly, I would be a failure at being a serial killer.
I had to show her my ankle and she totally gasped and kind of gagged. She said I didn't need stitches- which hello, not like she'd take me for those anyways with our not super health insurance- but told me I was a fucking idiot. Everybody knows you go slow around the ankles.
Really? Because I am the family fuckup who can't comprehend simple shaving instructions. My bad.
But now as a grown up I have since learned from this experience and shave my legs every day. I fall asleep rubbing my feet and legs together because they are so smooth. Not like you'll ever know about that, so just take my word. No stubble on these babies. Feeling stubble on my legs makes me feel dirty. It's seriously something to do with OCD I'm sure.
OK- so that's a little more of my crazy. Trust me- I've got more where that came from. I am going to go to bed now, hopefully not puke and die in my sleep, and be back tomorrow. Hopefully. But thank you for all of your concerns! And I hope you sleep better tonight, Krysten. Your Lamb Whore Leader is alive. But puking. :) Sparkle and glitter, bitches.