Vagina Angst

I hereby warn male readers that the following discusses vaginas. I also assure you that all my future blogs will not cover girly topics, there will be a whole range of interesting tit bits. And by that I mean bits and pieces, a variety, not bits about tits. Even though, at some point, there may be bits about tits. So what, you may ask, has inspired me to discuss vaginas? Well, last night I watched a documentary called The Perfect Vagina. It was all about how modern women hate their vaginas, and the efforts they go to in an attempt to make them more asthetically appealing. It got me thinking about my own attempts at vaginal 'landscaping'. No, I won't go into any details other than to say fake tan does not work on chicken skin. Seen what it does to your knees and elbows? Yup. Damn you, porn stars and your all over tan!

When I think of these mishaps, my mind goes instantly to a phone call I recieved one day, from a very distressed friend. Before I even had a chance to say hello, my friend blasted down the phone, 'Sairze, I need your help!'. She was all choked up with tears, and my heart dropped. What had she done? My car keys already in hand ready to run to her, I gently asked what was wrong. 'Oh Sairze, I've done something really stupid, I think I need to go to hospital.' I thought Oh God what has she taken? My heart was racing, what do I do? Should I call an ambulance? Turns out, she wasn't happy with the hair on her flaps. She decided the easy solution would be to use the ole Epilady. You know, that scary little machine that plucks out your hairs one by one, all the while making a grinding sound like some kind of freaky torture tool? Well the Epilady is used to eating up short, pre shaven type hairs. When it got it's teeth around the long hair on her flaps, the thing got greedy. It chewed and chewed its way up the hair, until it's teeth unfortunately found....well.....flap. Yup, this thing had chewed onto her flap and gotten stuck there. She could not get it off. I'm afraid my reaction may not have been the one she desired. I laughed. And laughed. And laughed! And I'm still laughing right now, as I type this. As the tears rolled down my face, I tried to calm her down through my laughter. 'Try pulling it off!' I suggested. 'I HAVE! IT'S STUCK!' she screamed down the phone at me, sending me into more hysterics. Eventually she had to detach the head from the Epilady, and go to the hospital with it still in her undies, stuck on her flap. Hilarious for me, but one of the most frightening experiences my good friend has ever had.

I also worked with a lady who once attempted to give herself a Brazilian. She had been waxing herself her whole life, and was married with two kids. She decided it was time for a bald foo foo, and that her waxing skills should be up to scratch. Well, they weren't. She tore away a nice big piece of hair, and unfortunately took some of her vagina with it. Some six stitches later, some of them internal, she decided she liked the extra hair down there. She couldn't sit down properly for two weeks!

So of course, watching this vagina documentary stirred up many memories for me. At some point, the woman hosting the documentary ended up in tears, devestated at what women were willing to do to their bodies. Granted, she had just watched a young girl get part of her clitoral labia lopped off by a greasy looking Indian doctor. Disturbing. When asked why she was doing this to the only part of our body (lets be honest girls) that can actually give us an orgasm, her answer was simple. Her sister had teased her. I believe her sister's choice of words were something along the lines of 'beef curtains' and 'ham hanging down'. I know! How cruel can sisters be! Well, I have a confession to make. For a long time, I have been teasing my little sister with a similar taunt. Not at all because her vagina in any way resembles anything food like, and to be honest I haven't really seen it anyway. Except for that one time she got drunk and did 'The Turtle', but that is a story for another time. Well, what do I call her, you ask? I have been calling her...Burger Flaps. For years now. This insinuates that she has large flaps that look like the bread roll that holds your burger together. I know, terrible! And so I say to you now, lil sis, please don't get your flaps chopped off, I'm sure their real nice and nothing at all like a take away food. I promise to never call you Burger Flaps again, and to only stick with the tried and true Poo Fingers that you have become so accustomed to.

And ladies, even if your vagina did resemble some sort of take away, lets be honest. The ones who are eating it aren't fussy! Don't deny them the visual! They'd rather eat a burger with a wrinkled old bun and cheap meat,than to not be able to eat it at all. A burger is a burger when you're hungry!

Hairy Creatures On My Gloves

I have recently moved from the tropical north part of Australia, to New Zealand. New Zealand is the skinny little island to the right of Aussie, the little sister of our large continent. Why did you move there, you ask? Why did you leave tropical rainforest, Summer all year around, the largest reef in the world and bars being open 24/7, to come to a place known as 'The Land Of The Long White Cloud'? Well, one word. Love. Yup, engaged to a New Zoolander. Yes, I am sacrificing much for the man of my dreams. And frankly I'm a little tired of explaining this choice to NZers. So now, when people ask, I simply answer, 'Well, I was sick of spiders.' to which Kiwis always answer, 'Oh yee we don't git bug spiders hee.' Translation: They don't get big spiders here. And to be honest, this definitely sweetened the deal for me! I love seeing sharks, snakes, crocodiles and various other dangerous Aussie animals in the wild. A sighting is not as common as you may be lead to believe, and is a moment to be treasured. Spiders, however, not my thing. Don't like seeing them, don't like hearing about them, don't like them in my house. It's not like an arachnaphobia type thing, I don't scream and run and have a meltdown. I just don't like having them near me. So yaye, New Zealand, no spiders.

After recently returning from a fleeting visit to my homeland, I was kicking back on my couch in Kiwiland (NZ). All was sweet in the land of quiet people and shy furry animals. Until something came running over a couch cushion, hurtling towards me at lightning speed, it's eight hairy legs launching one in front of the other like a 50 metre sprint Olympian. It took my fastest kung fu push flip to launch myself off the couch in time, and I tell you I only just made it clear of the bite zone. There he sat, enjoying the warmth of the spot my butt had just heated for him. A brown, hairy spider the size of my palm. Not your average skinny spider either, a chunky legged, thick bodied, menacing looking beast with fangs over 3mm long! I called my Kiwi to come and catch him, and we put him in a jar. I was pretty sure this little furry friend had found his way back to NZ in my bags, all the way from Australia. We named him The Chief, and decided to keep him for other Kiwis to come and marvel at. A spider like nothing they had ever seen! Kiwis came from far and wide to sicken themselves at the sight of this deadly beast. I decided I had better find out what type of spider The Chief was, so that when showing him off I could reel off scientific facts about bites causing puss filled alcerations, eyeball rot, etc etc.

So I sent a photo to a spider lady in Auckland, asking her to identify my little beasty. Imagine my surprise and pure disgust when she identified it as a native New Zealand spider known as a Vagrant! Wait, no, that can't be right. You people don't get big hairy spiders! Right? Wrong. So I started asking around, and guess what. Not one single Kiwi I know has seen a spider in their country bigger than a fingernail. Quite a rare sighting, apparently. Yaye for me. I move all the way from the land of all creatures deadly, only to be stalked on my couch by the only hairy spider in New Zealand! The Chief passed away in his jar, despite offerings of small flies and ants to mush up. And so, I thought my Vagrant spider visiting was a thing of the past. But no. No, there was the one that ran up the curtain while we were kicking back. And my personal favourite. The one resting on my exfoliating glove. The biggest one yet. My exfoliating gloves live on the shelf that houses all my hair enhancing equipment. On reaching out for my gloves, I saw a black hair tie curled up on top them. As I reached to pick up the glove, yes only centimetres away, I realised the hair tie had a leg! And another leg! For fucks sake! When will it end! Vagrants, I don't know why you have chosen me. Maybe you think I am feeling homesick for all things fang filled? Maybe you like that I don't do regular housework and there are lots of roaches to eat? Maybe you think my love of animals will see you welcomed into my home to live out a happy life? Well my furry Vagrant friend, I'm afraid I don't enjoy being the only person in this country to see a spider bigger than a pin head. And I say this for your own good, if you come anywhere near my humble abode again, I am gunna SMOKE YOUR ASS!