Tag Archives: chick things

Laser Beams

2 May

One of the most fun parts of hooking up with someone new is discovering their body for the first time.  It’s like unwrapping a present – you never know what you’re going to get until all the wrapping is off.  I tend to be like a kid a Christmas, ripping all the packaging off the gift and diving right in.   Usually you’ll get an a “Oh! I love it! It’s just what I wanted!” from me.  On some occasions there may have been an “Oh.  Not what I was expecting, but it will do.”  Mind you, the last reaction is never spoken aloud.

The reaction to the package, so to speak, isn’t just about size or shape.  Much of it has to do with the grooming which has or has not taken place.  I appreciate when a man takes care of his business.  Rifling through a forest of pubic hair is not my idea of a good time.  Just as we ladies are expected to keep our lady parts groomed, I expect my men to do the same thing.  Manscape the shit out your stuff, dudes, it’s common courtesy.  No one wants to be choking on pubic hair during a blowie.  Hooking up with 3D was like being lost in a deep dark forest, I forgave him because the package he carried was pretty substantial and he knew what to do with it.

In this most recent round of dating I’ve found men to be far more concerned with the way they present their junk, and for that, I say “thank you.”

We ladies have all sorts of options these days: stay full, trim it, landing strips, bald eagle.  You have to figure out the best way to make your lady bits shine in the way they should.  Maintenance can be a bit of a chore, but it’s always worth it.  You can shave it, tweeze it, wax it, or laser it.  Shaving is great on day 1, then the damn little red bumps make their appearance.  Waxing makes me want to die on the table, and when it’s time to regrow the hair it’s so damn itchy.  It’s what I imagine crabs to be like, only more uncomfortable.  Tweezing takes an eternity and you end up with the same regrowth issues as with waxing.  And that, my friends, is why I have decided on laser hair removal.

Two weeks ago I had my initial consult.  It was quick, they showed me lots of pictures of options (bikini, landing strip, full Brazilian), we talked about the process, and I signed on the dotted line.  6 sessions, every 2 months to kill all those pesky hair follicles.  Ridiculous amount of money to get it done, but it will be worth it.

Last week I went to my first appointment.  I was dead nervous as during the consult I had been told it the process would take 40 minutes.  I’d read the sensation felt like rubber bands snapping on skin, and that sensation on my most sensitive parts for 40 minutes didn’t seem like something to look forward to.  People, it was worse than snapping laser bands.  There are certain parts of your lady bits which are super sensitive and the technician told me it would feel really “spicy”.  It felt like someone was pinching as hard as they possibly could – I don’t know about you, but I’m not down with pinching my privates.  There I was on my back, naked from the waist down, legs akimbo with a complete stranger, trying not to sweat and cry.  Kind of like a first hook up only not as fun.  All because I want to be properly groomed when I hook up.  Talk about vanity.

Thankfully, the process only lasted about 10 minutes.  There was no pain after the session.  I was told it would take about 2 weeks before the shedding phase, then I’d be hairless for a few weeks, and then the sleeping follicles (they go through growth cycles) would activate.  I’ll keep you posted on progress.  We’ll see how things go.  So far, I’m not seeing anything new.  Monsieur le Baguette is eager to see how everything works out.

Operation #laseredladybits is in progress!

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Saving first base

2 Mar

Warning for my sister, stop reading.  I think there’s something on the stove that needs your attention.  Or maybe you left the water upstairs running, you should probably go check it out.  By the way, are you going to mom’s house for dinner tomorrow night?  What do you think she’ll make?

Stop reading now, you can go away.

At a party last Saturday, surrounded by friends, one of them announced, “Catherinette has great tits.”

Having boobs is a glorious thing.  At a d cup mine fit my frame.  Yes there are times when my button down shirts start to gape.  Or when I suddenly get uniboob at the gym and I go from having 2 to just one giant one in the middle.  They’re heavy sometimes, and they can be uncomfortable during the summer.   But for the most part they are a glorious sight to behold.  If they’re out on display, people will look.  Sometimes it’s subtle, sometimes not so much.

This afternoon I get the joy and pleasure of having my boobs smashed like tiny pancakes.  It’s mammogram time.  I’m excited about it.  No I’m not.  As a female with boobs, though, it’s my duty to go and get them checked out.  Gotta save first base and keep motorboating alive.  This time around, however, it’s gonna get real awkward with the technician.  You see, they’re not in their typical state.

Tuesday night, #4 couldn’t get enough of them.  On our first date I had worn a pretty conservative top which accentuated them, but didn’t show any cleavage.  I caught him sneaking some glances, and called him out on text messages later on.  Over the course of our text exchanges he mentioned how excited he was to get a hold of them – so to speak.  Obviously we were both aware of what was gonna go down on Tuesday, so I wore something low cut so he could see what he was going to get himself into later that night.  Once we were back at my house he manhandled them like no one’s business.  For 3 plus hours.  After he left they were so sore it hurt to wear a shirt, and laying on my stomach was close to impossible.  The next day as I was inspecting them in the mirror I noticed there were marks all over them.  A hicky here.  A welt there.  A hole lot of redness.  Was that a bite mark?  3 days later and they’re still sore and some of the marks he left are still visible.

I’m super stoked to take my top off and then have to explain to the technician that, no, they typically don’t have those marks.  And that, no, that welt on the bottom of the left one isn’t usually there.  And also, no, they’re not usually bruised it’s just a hicky on my god damned right one.

In hindsight perhaps I should have scheduled the appointment out a bit further…

 

 

Justin Timberlake isn’t the only one bringing sexy back

2 May

That’s right, fans.  I’m taking matters into my hands and doing what it takes.

And by “matters” I mean “every snack food I can find” and “doing what it takes” I mean “shoving them down my throat”.

Stupid PMS.  How is it possible to have so many cravings that can never be satisfied? It’s a miracle I haven’t eaten the island in the middle of my kitchen.  The only reason I haven’t tried it is because it’s black and gray and I can’t think of any appetizing foods that are black and gray.

In the last 45 minutes I hoovered:

  • An entire bag of chips
  • 3 candy bars (the mini ones)
  • A bowl of ice cream
  • 2 pieces of cheese
  • 1/4 herb turkey
  • 1 mango

I also managed to break out with 2 brand new pimples.  Welcome Simone and Simone 2!

Next up I’m going to sit on the couch and sob my way through the latest episode of Game of Thrones.  First I need a big glass of wine so I can rehydrate myself from all the tears I’m going to shed.

How much longer until menopause and hot flashes?

I’m Just as Stupid as the Next Girl

27 Jan

The wonderful world of dating often makes girls turn incredibly stupid.  Open mouth breathing, eyes rolling, drooling kind of stupid.  You all know I’ve had an online dating profile up for quite some time.  I took a break from dating last year.  For the first time in umpteen months I have a date.  This Sunday, I’m going out with a dude.  The logical part of me says that we’ll go out, it’ll be pleasant, there will be zero chemistry and it will have been a waste o’ time.

BUT this afternoon I caught myself jumping ahead 100 steps.  These thoughts actually went through my mind:

  1. I need to buy a new outfit for my date.  I’ll probably have to go out and get new bras and underwear once we start sleeping together.
  2. He lives in Jersey and works in the city.  I live and work in the burbs.  Which one of us will move if it works out?  He really loves his house, and I don’t want to commute from Jersey.
  3. I have plans to go to NYC in early March, hotel room is booked.  Maybe I should wait to invite my mom and see if it works out with this guy and he and I can go together.
  4. Two weeks is a long time to be away from someone over the summer.  Wonder if he’d fly up to the Vineyard to spend a few days with me and my family.

I actually thought those things.  All of them.  When I realized what I was doing I started laughing at myself.

Why do we do this?  Why do we immediately start into planning the future before even shaking the other person’s hand?  It’s so totally absurd, yet every single girl I know starts all of that stupid shit when they meet someone new.

Suddenly that crazy girl I mentioned in my last post doesn’t seem quite as stupid as she did before.  Sure, she’s holding on to a relationship that’s super duper dead.  She told me a few weeks ago how she thought she had met someone she could spend her life with – before they went on their first date.  I thought she was totally ridiculous.  AND THEN I go and start planning the same kind of shit.

Look, I don’t delude myself that this dude is the one.  I don’t even know if we’ll make it to the second date, but I do know that the mere thought of having in my life puts me in auto-planning mode.  That just puts added pressure on the whole thing and takes the fun out of everything.  I need to knock that shit off immediately if not sooner.  So, yeah, I’m stupid, just like the next girl.