My life is tough. Plain and simple. You try being a bikini line hair. It's not a fun life. People are always trying to wipe me out, completely.
There are plenty of things that humans use against me, be it Epil-Stop, Electrolysis, Nads, Laser Hair Removal, or the infamous Blowtorch.
My number one current enemy is, however, Nads. It's a day to day struggle, trying to keep Nads away from my private area. It's horrible. I feel like The Terminator is after me, but the Terminator after me is a sticky green gel made by an Australian housewife. It's hard to picture, but trust me, that lady is a vicious bitch.
Have you seen the infomercial with her pulling the hair right out of people? Luckily, I was concealed then, and no harm came to me.
But other times, I have not been so lucky.
Take this one time, when I almost had my head chopped off. I was just sitting there, minding my own business, doing what pubic hairs do, just loungin' with my seven hundred closest buds, when this woman sprays me and my pals with this foam and proceeds to mow us down, one by one with a huge knife. Luckily, she missed a spot, and I was spared. There was no account of it in the paper the next day. The white men don't care about us hairs in the 'hood.' It's crazy man, I tell ya, each day is a struggle for us hairs.
Seeing one of those other hairs just yanked out--it really makes you think. You go home at night, twist around the other hairs a little bit tighter when you go to sleep.
I mean, Jesus, have you ever seen somebody you've spent a whole week twisting around just get torn away from you? Follicle and all? That poor bastard is not gonna be growing back. He's Terminated... so to speak.
The lady that I currently grow on really seems to hate me, like I'm some sort of pest! I mean really, am I that bad?
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| BabySoft™ Charmin® devil death blanket |
I'm a good pube. I don't try to give you those embarrassing feminine itches during an important meeting or at a fancy restaurant. I try my best not to be one of those straggly, unsightly bikini line monstrosities you see on ugly fat women at the beach when they walk by you with all their visible pubes flapping in the wind. And don't expect to find me loitering in some fast food meal either. I'm not like that, honey.
See, unlike my--ahem--peers, I try to put up a good appearance. I keep myself generally well groomed in a tight "landing strip." I mean, even when I'm on the dreaded buttcrack shift, I still try to look my best. Even after spending five minutes up against some chocolate log and being scraped nearly to death by BabySoft™ Charmin® devil death blanket, I don't give up on personal hygiene.
Ever seen one of those crusty, feces-smeared hairs that you see come off after wiping your ass? That's a sign of a hair giving up on appearance. And suga', believe me, you wouldn't catch me curled up dead like that.
That's shameful.
Why is it that a self-righteous pube like myself is so hated in today's society? I mean, I remember a day thousands of years ago when ape men were attracted to ape ladies by their beautiful bushes. But now, it's like I'm some sort of criminal, who cannot for a second stick her beautiful head into society. Why, oh why, does everybody hate me?
