1. I spend 510 hours per week planning my futurewedding.
10 Secrets I Keep From My Boyfriend That Would Totally Freak Him Out
A lady never reveals her age, or the size of her poops.
I’m just a girl in the world, y’know? Just trying to get by with a few laughs, my health generally intact and as little showering as possible. But it seems like the guys I date tend to put me on this pedestal. For a while it’s nice to feel like some coveted, perfect and lady-like princess, but after a while I start to worry I might be deceiving them. What would he say if he knew that I not only like the smell of my own farts, but sometimes I even waft them upward so I can really check it out. Yes, I’m a lady — I’m all frills and lace on the outside, but on the inside, I haven’t washed my bra in 18 months. I’m happy with myself, but my boyfriend would freak if he knew the truths I’m about to divulge.
1. I spend 5–10 hours per week planning my future wedding.
My wedding dress is picked, I’ve chosen my ring, and decided on the signature drink to be served at cocktail hour. Every detail is nailed down. My boyfriend doesn’t believe in marriage, and in five years of dating, he’s never once given me a reason to believe he’s changed his mind. When he changes his mind, I’ll be ready.
2. I send pictures of my poop to friends.
It’s not very lady-like, but it sure is funny. Furthermore, there are times when a poop is just so damn impressive, you’ve got to share it with someone. No one would believe the tales.
3. Strange long hairs spring from my areolas overnight and I pluck them.
It’s usually only two or three random hairs, but what they lack in volume, they make up for in length. You’d truly be ASTONISHED at the length of these bad boys. It’s another thing I sometimes snap pictures of to share with my closest gal pals. Sometimes I hold off on plucking just to see how long they’ll get.
4. Sometimes I take sink showers.
My sister calls it “The Poor Man’s Shower.” It’s when you stand over the sink and take a wet washcloth and soap to all your important parts (i.e. pits, cracks, and crevices), and call it a day. Sometimes I’ll even run the shower water and just hang out in there after my sink bath. That way he thinks I’m actually doing the real thing. Showering takes a lot of time and effort for a gal. The post-shower regimen could take hours. Sometimes it’s best to just get in there, remedy the problematic areas and call it a day.
5. Or sometimes I don’t even bother with the sink and skip straight to taking care of Madame Butterfly.
We’ve all been there. He’s being sweet and hands-y and you can just tell — he’s going to go for it. In your brain you’re all, “Woah dude, you do not want to get involved. I went to the gym this morning and I have NOT even hit the sinks yet.”
But, the heavens have smiled down upon gnarly women like myself. Vaginal wipes, for the girl on the go, are a thing that exists. In my case, however, they’re more for the girl who’s actually a useless blob and cares not at all about personal hygiene. I keep them in my purse in case of emergencies.
6. If I’m not menstruating or wearing a very short skirt, there are no underpants on my butt.
When it comes to wearing underwear, I say NAY! They’re restricting, they make things fit more tightly, and they remind me that I’m gaining weight. I’ve grown so used to not wearing underwear that when I have to don them for “lady time” reasons, I feel like I’m wearing a suit of armor. The panties are so uncomfortable and I’m aware of them all day. I recently justified the sans-undies practice by finding that it’s actually totally healthy, if not better, for my hoo-hah.
7. After each and every shower, I spent 5–10 minutes searching for and pulling out single strands of head hair that have become trapped in my buttcrack.
Nobody talks about this! I can’t be the only one. Every time I actually do make it to the shower, I lose a lot of hair, and it all winds up between my labia or my butt cheeks. After every shower I stand with one leg up on the sink so I can remedy the damage.
8. I stalk all of my exes via social media several times a week.
If their profiles are public, you better believe I’m scoping the scene night and day. I have absolutely zero feelings for any of them — in fact, I’m pretty embarrassed to have shared Madame Butterfly with most of them, but I feel the need to check in. I like to know that all is right with the universe and that the scale of righteousness is still tipped in my favor.
9. I read the obituaries of strangers for a good cry.
It usually begins innocently — someone on Facebook will mention someone they know has died. Everyone is very upset and alluding to dramatic things and I need to know what happened! I’ll look for the stranger’s obituary (that typically tells me NONE of the answers I’m looking for), then I run a Google search on the person, from which I learn about all of their elementary school achievements. Once I feel like I’ve learned everything Google can provide about their character, I go back to Facebook. I visit every the profile of every person the deceased has ever met and cry hysterically. I wail audibly as I read the person’s father confessing his regret of not being around more, a long-lost friend’s apology for losing touch, and old crushes coming out of the woodwork to reveal they’re sorry they missed their chance. This takes up hours of my day. I love it.
10. Sometimes I stare at myself in the mirror when I ugly cry.
I truly have no explanation for this one. It usually makes me cry harder — probably because I look like fucking Sloth from “The Goonies” when I cry and that is very upsetting to see.