I shaved my ass for Valentine’s Day using GQ’s guide|
What’s the sexiest way to get ready for Valentine’s Day?
Apparently, it’s shaving your pubes. And your crotch hair isn’t even what I’m talking about. That’s a given. I’m talking about your backside bush. The ones that seem to be your cushion when you sit down. Yes, your ass hair.
I’ve never really thought about cleaning up my butt hair, because, well, it was never a problem. But then, I read this article from GQ in 2015 saying that maybe I should do so since, well, “you should be doing everything you can to get your derriere into tip-top shape.”
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First thing I did was get an electric clipper, one that GQ suggested. Theirs was a Philips Norelco Bodygroom. I went out and purchased Philips Norelco OneBlade just because it was more affordable. It’s meant for beards, and trimming them, so I figured it would work for my other beard. Ahem.
Nay, it was fxxxing weird.
“Designed with a rounded head to navigate the body’s contours, like those in your asscrack, it’ll help get things tidy right quick,” GQ reviewed of the buzzer.
I buzzed my butt fur and at first, I must say it was a foreign sensation. First off, the vibration was a little weird. Nay, it was f***ing weird. Then, I was super freaked out that I was somehow cut myself back there. No where in the article did it write if I was supposed to clean my hair or cut it while it was wet. I figured it was safer to cut with clippers while dry. Something about lubricating my ass hair with shaving cream with a clipper just didn’t seem safe.
I buzzed my butt fur and at first, I must say it was a foreign sensation.
I don’t know if the GQ writer has a flexible head that twists and contorts like a 90’s Stretch Armstrong doll, or has the ability to gouge out his eyeballs so they can see any angle at any time, or is just, well, boneless. But when I went to look at my behind, I was like, um, lol, I can’t see a thing. Like, was I supposed to prop a mirror somehow to see what I was doing? Should I have asked my girlfriend to come over and do this intimate act of love for me? Or put it on Instagram Live so that at least I could witness my reflection and ask my followers (hi grandma!) to help me find my anal pubes? Or simply close my eyes, shave down there and hope for the best?
Should I have asked my girlfriend to come over and do this intimate act of love for me? Or put it on Instagram Live so that at least I could witness my reflection and ask my followers (hi grandma!) to help me find my anal pubes?
I chose the latter and wished that I actually went and sought out a professional (or my grandma). Not only did I think I was going to scrape my inner anus, I thought it would bleed, I’d get an infection and then surely die, blood gushing from my open wound. So I stopped immediately and went on to the next step.
GQ‘s next move was to “Shave It Away.” Okay, pretty straightforward. The writer instructed that I use a cartridge razor “as opposed to its single-blade safety counterpart.” The reasoning: “While the latter may provide a closer shave on your face, the former will be about a million times easier to navigate the narrow valley of your ass.” Okay.
The article instructed that I use a handheld mirror for a visual on more “hard-to-picture” places. This would have been ideal, except I really didn’t know where to prop the mirror. Was it on my toilet? Was I then supposed to bend over backwards (lol) and look between my legs upside down while looking in the mirror and simultaneously navigating a razor? Like, was this the triangle pose from yoga? This was so much work, guys.
I ended up using shaving cream that was too good of a lubricant that my razor started slipping out of my hands. I started scratching the surface of my anus picturing that it was like my facial hair and went up and down side to side. But after a good few minutes of clumsily shaving, I called it quits as I started scraping and felt a little pain. I panicked and a little blood began mixing with my shaving cream. Absolutely horrified, I could imagine the disaster of a 9-1-1 phone called I’d have to make.
“9-1-1 emergency, how may I help you?”
“I am bleeding to death!”
“Sir, why are you bleeding? Have you been stabbed?”
“Yes, I was shaving my anus and now blood is everywhere!”
“Yes, I was shaving my anus and now blood is everywhere!”
Mortified, I completely stopped what I was doing. For those squeamish like me, GQ suggested perhaps waxing it off was best. Which is a huge f***ing no. To ANYONE reading this, I IMPORE you to stray FAR from doing this to yourself. Can you imagine waxing somewhere you can’t even see, let alone then ripping your anal skin onto a piece of paper that now has part of your intestines attached to it? Same goes for the publication’s next option: using an epilator. Wait. Epilator? Have you actually used one? That s*** hurts even for your underarms let alone somewhere tender like your buttcrack. NO NO NO NO NO.
Can you imagine waxing somewhere you can’t even see, let alone then ripping your anal skin onto a piece of paper that now has part of your intestines attached to it?
In conclusion, dear readers, I survived. Barely. I licked my wounds and rinsed myself off. Sore, a little confused and absolutely mortified, I realized that GQ certainly cannot be trusted. At least when it comes to shaving your dingleberry tree.
A week later, my ass hair was growing back and I was happy to say that all was scabbing. I then sat down to get back to some emails when I felt a prick. Oh, yeah! I realized. My ass hair was growing back and now it was pricking my anus like that of a prickly cactus. OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD THIS BURNS. Thanks, GQ.