Saturday, December 27, 2008
This blog was born out of a physically invigorating, if rather intimate, bathing experience I recently had. The details are not necessarily sordid, however, they may not be suitable for all audiences.
Before I begin, a bit of background is necessary. I was on day 2 1/2 of a 2 1/2 day Presentable Clothing Strike. My Dearest had asked me, late on Christmas morning, if I had any plans to change into real clothes. "You're not going to wear your jammies all day, are you?" I hadn't planned on it, but now that you mention it, it sounds like a fantastic idea! So, what was originally a normal span of time to stay in one's pajamas, turned into an over-extended length of time in them. Not only did I wear them to bed on Christmas Eve and wear them all day on Christmas, but I also wore them to bed on Christmas night, and then proceeded to wear them all day on the 26th. I wore them to bed that night, and only after becoming eye-wateringly aware of my aroma today, did it occur to me that changing my clothes was long overdue.
Right after donning my then-new jammies, I was visited with what would precipitate a crushing blow (no pun intended) to my Dearest's libido. We had been teasing and flirting with eachother all day on the 24th, whispering promises of the things we were going to do to one another after all the stockings had been hung by the chimney with care. He took a trip to the liquor store to buy a bottle of Holiday Cheer (read: tequila), when what to my wondering thighs would appear, but a miniature drop of "At least we're not pregnant this year!" Upon returning and hearing of the news, his... face... fell, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that no amount of Holiday Cheer would get me horny enough to have Period Sex. Nuh-uh. No way, Jose Cuervo.
I don't know about most other women, but the aroma of this menstruating woman is uhhh, unique. It's not awful - it's just the scent of menses, I guess. Well, when you keep that same menstruating woman in the exact same clothes for 2 1/2 days (or if she keeps herself in them), the scent becomes much less like something one would describe as an aroma, and more like a stench. Then, when you add a half a pot of stout coffee to the mix on the last morning of a Presentable Clothing Strike, which really gets things moving, it becomes a malodorous reek that could clear rooms. At least the dogs thought that my company was simply grand!
I decided that my Dearest might well seek medical help for me if he came home from work to find me in the same jammies... still. So, I turned on an almost-too-hot shower, slowly acclimated myself to the scalding temperature by inching my way into the shower's stream with a bunch of "ooh-ing" and "aah-ing". I could literally feel the days of stank melt away. After floating out of my half-trance, I decided that some soap would be a good idea. I perused my cache of perfumy soaps. Vanilla? Nah... too subdued. Lemongrass? Nope... too lemongrassy. Irish Spring? No... too manly. Peppermint? Yes! Just what I need is to feel all tingly and invigorated! Nothing like peppermint to perk you right up and put some pep in your step!
I selected my scratchiest poofy thing, thinking that the added abrasiveness would help the peppermint to really get into my skin. I would soon, and for hours to come, regret that choice. I lathered up my whole body and reveled in the silky soapiness. My skin felt great, and my mind was clearing. I inhaled the minty steam deeply into my lungs and continued to scrub. Just what I wante... whoa! WHOA! WHAT THE HELL?!?! MY PUSSY IS TINGLING!!! A WHOLE LOT! OH GAWD, MAKE IT STOP! WATER!! SHIT, THAT WATER IS HOT! COLD WATER! WHOO! TOO COLD! (Note: Cold water added to a pepperminty bajingo gives the sensation of douching with an icicle.)
After some Cirque du Soleil-worthy contortions and gymnastics, I managed to dull the tic-tac feeling between my legs. I hurriedly washed my hair and turned off the shower. Pep in my step? Yeah, that's exactly what I had as I pulled back the shower curtain and allowed a frosty breeze to waft over my peppermint parts. I grabbed the towel and rubbed aggressively at my wet skin in order to bring some warmth to the situation. The rest of my body felt just fine, refreshed and lively, even. It was just that my hoohoodie was feeling, umm... Listerine Clean. You know that feeling you get in your mouth when swishing with Listerine? That tingle/pain feeling? When the arena is not the upper mouth, but the lower one, it's a whole 'nother experience, lemee tell ya!
Honestly, I think there should be a friggin' warning on the damn bottle! Yeah, for idiots like me who think that while peppermint will make the skin on the majority of one's body all tingly, that it would have a different effect on the more sensitive areas of skin. The only thing that makes me feel better about this experience is knowing that 1.) This tale will save someone else from unwittingly applying peppermint-infused soap to their privates, and 2.) There will undoubtedly be at least one person who, after reading this, will purposely apply peppermint-infused soap to their privates.
The moral of the story? Peppermint is not for pussies.