Manscaping - perhaps TMI?

Friends,

I must warn you - this is probably the most personal update I've sent. Needless to say, this thing screams TMI so if you have a delicate constitution I recommend you wait for the next update. It's not so much that this is gross, it's that most people don't talk about this topic much in a public forum. I guess I'm "bonding" more with y’all then you probably want - or more than some of you might feel comfortable with. However, like I said in previous updates, I want to give you an impression of what we deployed Soldiers deal with in a war zone. Man-scaping is one of those things. I've talked with my female friends and coworkers about shaving. Every women insists she keeps her regular shaving regime (within reason) while deployed. I don’t know why, but "to each his own" I say. Enjoy...

Man-scaping (in a war zone)

Everyone should be familiar with or at least heard of the practice (carried out mostly by women) of trimming or shaving the pubic region. There is an entire array of practices from the simple “hedge trimming” which is keeping the lawn bushes presentable in a semi-natural state, to what I call the “deep cut” where most of the hair is trimmed down to less than an a quarter inch in length, to the “high and tight” akin to the male haircut of the same name but with nearly all of the pubic hair shaved away with only a small patch surrounding the most vital parts, to finally the “Brazilian” which to me sounds barbaric – the full waxing of all hair around the genitalia. Uhhh, I shudder to think how women can deal with (or want to for that matter) hot waxing their poonanny. Hot wax is for candles and nipples – enough said.

Well, some guys do a version of this trimming process, but we call it man-scaping. Yeah, except for the waxing part, I know guys practice all aforementioned variations. I’ve yet to meet a man who’s “man enough” to put hot wax on his stick – unless it was for some kinky sex. And quite honestly, even though it’d be like a car wreck you’re drawn to but don’t want to see – I can’t imagine hearing about it, let alone trying it.

Remember our friend Jack from a previous update? Jack was a real metrosexual – meaning he overly cared about his looks and went to great lengths to keep his nose hair, toenails and manbush neatly in check. Jeremy is a guy deployed with us now who is pretty much the same way. I caught him shaving off his entire downstairs hedge in the shower during pre-deployment training at Ft. Lewis, WA. I guess I can see doing it there, but keeping that bush trimmed while deployed seems too much to deal with. However, I strongly feel there is one area (besides the face/neck) that should regularly feel the scrape of a razor and which most men ignore – and that’s the butt crack. Please let me explain.

Ahhhh, the butt crack – a greatly misunderstood, maligned and neglected part of our anatomy. But why should it be? It’s the “seam” if you will which keeps the two orbs of our ass together without which our butts might bobble around uncontrollably. We’ve all seen those “bubbly butts” which look as if they’d jiggle right off the owner if it weren’t for the pants in which they were tightly tucked. But I don’t want to discuss size so much as hair – especially butt crack hair.

You may be wondering what’s with my fascination with “down there” hair. It s not so much a fascination, more like an interest in hygiene. Now, some guys have hairy butt cheeks. That’s not the hair I’m talking about – I’m not concerned the butt carpet. Thankfully I’m not afflicted much with that problem. Butt cheek hair sucks, because in the summer, when wearing jeans outside and your hot and sweaty and you’re sitting down or readjusting your seat - trying to get comfortable, sometimes the butt cheek hair will tug on my drawers and it can be annoying. So, I’m not talking about that – I’m talking about the fluff, fuzz or forest (depending the guy) located between –and I’m gonna get graphic here – the balls and the sphincter, or as I more commonly say – the coo-yahns and the pucker (or brown eye). That area is of special interest. But why, well, by now you know there’s more.

Now I’m not too keen on shaving the hair off my agates. The skin on my peach basket is too wrinkly, it would take too much time to trim the hair, and no one besides me currently pays any attention to those poor underutilized marbles anyway. But the brown eye, well, that’s an entirely different story altogether. I mentioned hygiene earlier. The more hair one has in one’s armpit, the more one is prone to sweat. Yeah, there are products for armpits, but have you ever encountered one for crotch sweat? Bet ya haven’t…

But sweating isn’t the main reason why I shave my crack hair. Well, why I’d prefer to shave it. God, this is getting personal. Maybe I should file this away under WTMI (way too much information) and end this section entirely. I rarely embarrass myself because I have very little shame, but I think I’m approaching the line. Mom: stop reading, please! For the others: proceed with caution.

The reason I gently, very gently and lightly run a razor over my trembling pucker once every couple of months is because I want to save money. WTF did I just write? Yeah, to save money. Here’s the deal – the more “eyelashes” per se one has around the brown eye the more “stuff” gets stuck in it. Now, I could write an entire dissertation on the amounts, type, and constitution of, well, you know what I mean – that at times, urgently works its way out of my body. Needless to say, what one eats has a direct affect on how much toilet paper one uses! Understand? If you have fewer “eyelashes” around the brown eye, you might use less toilet paper and thus, save money. The tertiary benefit is fewer unwanted and unexpected “Cling-ons.”

Cling-ons, dingleberrys, crackles – they’re all the same: unwanted bits of toilet paper stuck in the twisted butt crack hair around your brown eye. Now, I always use toilet paper until it comes back mostly white, then I take a Wet Wipe and swab the area again, just in case there’s some crackle or smudge-like substance lurking around. No one wants a crusty crotch. I learned that practice on my first deployment to Afghanistan. Oh, that reminds me….

Have you ever watched a dog take a dump? It’s kinda funny and gross at the same time. I think dogs have this genetic ability to push out their rump/anus area so that very little gets stuck on their butt hair. If there is “cling-idge” dogs can always lift a leg and lick themselves clean. I know, revolting ain’t it? Think about that the next time some dog tries to lick your face….. Some real hairy dogs, like sheepdogs or some shepherd breeds, get “crusticles” around their back end. For some reason that’s what eventually comes to mind when I see or meet a really hairy guy who doesn’t seem the “manscaping” type. DON’T ASK ME WHY! Sometimes I don’t want to visualize the things that pop into my head – they just pop, and I just laugh, and sometimes throw up…..

Now, back to shaving. Before we left the states, I thought I’d be clever and thoroughly get rid of every hair around my entire nether region. How? Why Nair of course! I mean, who wouldn’t Nair their ass crack instead of taking the chance of severing an artery with a razor in the pursuit of saving money and avoiding crusticles? Hello – me! Okay, so there aren’t any arteries on the pucker, but come on! I’m much more comfortable with some stinky smelling crème on my brown eye than a razor. Thus, I bought some Nair at the local drug store, went to my room the night before we departed Seattle, and prepared to lather and rinse.

I read the directions well – don’t let crème stay on longer than 5 minutes, test a region first, don’t rub with a cloth, blah, blah, blah. Whatever. I wanted to be as smooth as baby skin. Let me tell ya, I had every intention of following the directions. I placed my watch on the bathroom counter, disrobed, lathered up and proceeded to wait. The shower was ready because I wanted to get all the smell off, just in case I “got lucky” on my last night in Seattle. What happened instead was that I burned my balls.

Oh yeah, Murphy’s Law came into play in full force yet again (we have an intimate relationship Murphy and I). I hadn’t even washed the extra Nair off my hands when my cell phone rang and of course I answered it. There was some crisis, which I’ve long forgotten, that needed my immediate attention. I did my best to deal with it and in the process went over the recommended time limit. I think I finally hung up after 7 and a half minutes. Nothing hurt at the time I showered, washed, and rinsed so I thought I survived. However, while getting dressed to meet my friends in the hotel restaurant, my crotch suddenly felt like it was on fire. I freaked out.

I hurried into the bathroom where the light was brightest only to stare in horror at my flame red peach basket! I had chemically scorched my junk! What the Hell had I done? Oh, I was hair-free alright, but I might’ve taken a layer of skin with it. Ice? No way, besides I didn’t want to put on clothes, trek down the hall to the ice machine and return. Cold water? Uh, no, it didn’t seem like a good idea. So I started fanning my nutsack. In retrospect – I was a fcukin retard! I finally settled on applying liberal amounts of Neosporin ointment all over the affected area. Eventually the pain subsided but the red color persisted. How does one explain to a potential “mate” the sunburned coloring of one’s junk? It’s like I went sunbathing and wore a crotch-less full body suit – in cloudy Seattle of all places! I felt like a dumbass. And no, I didn’t get lucky that night – nor did I pay for it.

After the immediate pain went away, I got dressed, met my friends and ended up buying them drinks for being late. At least I had a whistle clean brown eye – or in my case, a red eye. I guess you could say I had a bloodshot eye. Anyway, that was my last experience with Nair. Now, I’m not swearing off Nair altogether, but since there’s no bathroom or shower privacy here, and no Nair for that matter, I’ll stick with the occasional swipe with the razor. I’m certainly not going to let a simple scorching incident prevent me from de-hairing my vitals. It’s not so much of an economic benefit now – I don’t pay for the pathetic, see-thru toilet paper we use here, it’s more that I don’t want all that hair. You could say I’m on the continuous quest for a crust-free butt.

FOB Salerno Afghanistan