We have Ashley Judd screaming about her face, Rosie yelling about her weight and a lot of other celebrities kvetching about their oppression for not being prefect and judged if they even look like they try. There is just no winning; you are damned if you do and damned if you don't. The truth is many of us are sick and tired of thinking that we are too fat, too thin, too flat, too wrinkled, too saggy and just not ENOUGH. While waiting in line for my groceries at the Piggly Wiggley I admit looking through the Star tabloid to see those undercover pics of cellulite thighs, obvious boob jobs, enlarged primate-looking lips and plastic surgeries gone wrong. Oh my God, I could have crawled into their dimpled fat pockets on the backs of their legs and shrieked in joy. Yes I said that and so did many of you. Why? because they asked for it, they created a standard few of us can achieve, at least after our 30's. I don't have a plastic surgeon on my calling list, do you? The closest I come to a personal trainer is lugging six heavy grocery bags in from the car in one trip and my husband and kids yelling to me, "is dinner ready yet?"
Women are angry. Every f----ing day we have to be compared to watermelon sized asses and cantaloupe titties- all on a size 2. I thought that was bad, but now we are totally, and I mean totally reduced to crap. Because all of us, celebrities included, has to worry about upgrading their vage, as in vagina. Yes, that sacred vessel, crimped between our thighs, few of us have ever bothered to explore, except perhaps with a mirror and a shaver, before a date, needs to be mangled some more- it needs to be bleached!
I admit the thought of ever letting anyone rip out my public hair and paying for that torture, is ridiculous. Truthfully, I have many friends that engage in this form of female mutilation, but not me. I've been blessed with a regular lover (my husband) who is happy just to get near it and due to his being too cheap to get bifocals. He's thought he has been screwing a 22-year-old for the past 25 years. Don't tell anyone but I've always had a secret fantasy about going to bed with a handsome blind man. Andrea Botcelli would be my choice and being lip read by him might be fine by me.
Truthfully, if God wanted us to see our vaginas or assholes and worry about them he would have pasted that tunnel of love right on our stomach. Yes, every woman reading this has stared at her stomach at least five times a day. Don't lie, you know you take advantage of every reflective opportunity to see if your paunch is sticking out. If you or I were supposed to see and groom those areas they would be in our full view and at our access.
Oh no, you couldn't pay me to tear out my pubes. I bought one of those Epilady things the hell with water boarding! Those assholes who invented that device should have sold it as a military secret. Yeah, threaten our enemies with that device; hold them down, pull down their pants and rub that carpet cleaner on their balls. In case you don't know, men don't wax and tear off their hair, which most of us know results the worst pain known to female-kind with the exception of childbirth. Men are cowards, they shave. They take a razor to their private areas. I don't know what they are thinking because frankly testicles with a 5 O'clock shadow are not that appealing. They slap and prick (no pun intended) and actually hurt, as I have been told, like needles.
The jungle, with an occasional machete, I could accept. But now I hear we are in desperate need to take another step to be beautiful by bleaching and I'm not talking about hair, I 'm talking about skin. My bf just paid $100 to have her privates bleached snow white- and she said it was a deal. Up until the point that I heard that we women should bleach our happy spot I thought my vertical smile looked pretty damn good. My nameless friend has elephant ears down there, and another has a unicorn, but I thought mine was relatively normal. But now we need to color code!
Now you might think that this is just a fad. I did know that porn stars were bleaching their anni (the plural for anus's) and vulvi (the plural for vulva), but a company has just come out with a bleach that will lighten all our little grassy knoll's derma. And how are we to check to see to see just how much we should lighten it? Is this like a box of Clariol that comes with the chart? "If your love tunnel is this shade_____ apply for twelve minutes." Do I have to mix it? Does it come with conditioner? Is there an organic or natural form of the product? And how the hell do you apply it? Maybe someone should come up with the puss n' booty party where women bleach one another. I always hated that Tupperware experience and the Pampered Chef. Maybe I'm on to something-NOT.
Could someone please tell me who made this asshole the vaginal-hue expert? The last time I checked we were all pink. Obviously this guy has spent too much time in front of his large screen doing you-know-what. Yes, I am pissseeeed off. If anyone needs to have a plucked and bleached chicken to enjoy sex they have BIG problems. So here is where I stand. We need representation. This vagina stuff has gone way too far. My vote for my vagina rep is Ashley Judd. Just tell her she has to bleach that blush away. Tell me what you think....