Fun With Vajazzling

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A friend got me a vajazzling kit for Christmas with the clear instructions. Long story short: She wanted me to vajazzle myself and then blog about it. On the blog that my mom reads. On the blog that my aunties and close, but not that close, friends read. It’s a good thing I almost have no shame because I would have chickened out of writing this. Except I have clear instructions from a friend who demanded that I stick jewels on my cooter and then write about it. Which she reminded me about today when I whined via text message that I was suffering a horrible case of writers block. So, with nothing else to fill my daily post, let’s get on with the story!

Thankfully vajazzling doesn't work like this.

Thankfully vajazzling doesn’t work like this.

Vajazzling is like getting a Brazilian wax done and then it decides to go on a successful treasure hunt. While on meth. So it’s like getting a Brazilian wax combined with the shiny things of Black Beards Treasure. Minus the black beard. While on meth. Honestly, that’s the best way that I can describe every vajazzled vagina that I have ever seen, and thanks to the internet, I’ve seen a lot of vajazzled vaginas.

Let me tell you, the idea of having a sparkly cooter really enthrals me. I’m completely mesmerized by the idea of having my own hidden shiny things. But I’m also turned off by the fact that I could have some perfectly amazing bling bling happening and I wouldn’t be able to show anyone. Well, I could show people, but I’m not sure how everyone would feel about me running around, crotch first, demanding that they look at my bejewel lady bits.

So Saturday night I settled down with my vajazzling kit that I was gifted and I had five shiny choices that I could press onto my va-jay-jay. There was a star, a heart, a lightning bolt, a top hat, and two foot prints. My immediate thought was to Harry Potter my hoo-ha, because who doesn’t want their downtown to be magical? But I also thought that having a top hat down there would make me feel like one dapper lady. Except…What if this first time turned out poorly because I messed up? I better use the lame heart.

Lame, but still cute and shiny, heart in hand I started stripping down to sticker myself so I could make jokes about my snatch being a lost treasure or telling people my crotch is where the lost fallen stars go to die. I was clean, I was shaved and…

I have skin allergies.

Thank the vajazzling gods that I remembered my skin allergies that I can only describe as corrosive and vicious. If I put the wrong thing on my skin, I blister, I peel, and then I basically look like my skin is either melting off, or I look like Goldmember as I peel layers and chunks of my skin from my person. I’m not exactly sure what I’m allergic to, so when it comes to new products I always do a skin test. Which means I use that product on a patch of skin that I can clean quickly and no one will notice that it’s melting off because I pissed it off.

In short: I was allergic to the glue on my vajazzling sticker and I now have a set of of dots in the shape of a heart imprinted on my inner right thigh. Like, I said, thank the vajazzling gods that I remembered my skin allergies and did a test first otherwise I would have weird welts on my cooter instead of my thigh.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I had fun with vajazzling.

 

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