Introducing: The Hairy Soap.
As I jailed myself within my hot steamy comfort cube as a kid, to me, I could only describe the sensation as the definition of relaxed. Until I bore witness to the horrifying sight that is the family soap, complete with imbedded ass, back and pubic hairs.
Now, maybe my standards were too high? Maybe I shouldn't expect the other counterparts of the family to undertake the action (oxymoron as it is) of 'cleaning the soap'.
I do not wish to lather my nether regions with your offending detriments. Nor do I have any interest in partaking in acts of incest because now, all I can think of is the last place that soap touched is somewhere on my Dad's or foster brother's body... -shudder-
It has scarred me for adulthood with quite some severity. It has gone beyond that of a pet peeve and has landed, ass hair first, into a downright fear.
Being an adult now however, has allowed me to purchase MY OWN bar of Dove Sensitive (significant emphasis on MY OWN). But I still have nightmares at the idea that visitors and guests or my housemate may decide to utilise my little block of hygiene... Maybe that hair isn't mine?
So if you choose to excrete dead skin cells and fallen follicles from your body in my shower, please, I beg you. Clean the fucking soap.
No comments:
Post a Comment