Steel Knickers

This could be TMI but I’m gonna go there.

I’ve had no below-the-belt action since 2018.

Now, in a way this is a good thing.

I don’t have to shave my legs.

I don’t have to wax.

I don’t even blow dry my hair anymore.

Personal maintenance is at an all-time low (although the makeup routine is strong and steady).

There’s such little action that I am considering steel knickers.

Cement panties?

I mean, what’s the point of fancy lingerie when no one sees it?

The other day, a bouquet of flowers was delivered to my desk.

I have to admit, I got a little excited when I saw them.

Maybe a man sent them to me?

But no, it was no man.

Just a colleague.

My initial reaction reminded me of the fact that I do want to have a relationship.

Despite being pretty comfortable with my single status.

Isn’t life better with someone to love?

Of course it is.

The little (and I mean TINY) romantic in me is just waiting to love someone up.

The truculent bitch in me is saying, “So what?  Who needs a man?”

Well, duh.

Me.

Smooth

I watched a video recently where 5 women took a challenge to stop waxing and plucking their facial hair for a month.

These women bitched and complained about their hairy faces but I couldn’t see anything on the video. They looked just as beautiful as they had in the beginning.

It was then that I realized that many women are COMPULSIVE about facial hair.

For someone who lets her eyebrows go LONG PAST THE PLUCKING POINT, I can say with true abandon that I am not one of these compulsive women.

I also forget to shave my legs but that’s beside the point.

The truth is, I don’t remember being obsessed with facial hair as a teenager.

I don’t even remember HAVING facial hair.

But somewhere between 15 and 43, I managed to grow a beardlette.

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a “beard beard.”

My face just gets blond fuzz on it.

It’s genetic, I think.

There’s some Portuguese in me and I attribute all my peach fuzz to my Portuguese heritage.

On account of I’m pretty sure it’s not from the Nordic side of things.

In addition to having a fuzzy face, I also have one long wiry stray hair that grows out of the right corner of my chin.

Definitely NOT SEXY.

I pluck that motherfucker like nobody’s business!

It’s the most satisfying pluck on my whole body.

I play with it for a while after I pluck it – poking it with my finger, feeling how stiff and rigid it feels.

Getting old sucks.

However, it’s better than the alternative, no?

So I’ll just shut up about the whole thing and admit that I have an ace up my sleeve.

I may be hairy but there’s always wax!