When hygiene crosses the line into aggravation…

Posted: July 29, 2011 in Uncategorized

Let’s see, I’ve figured out how to shave lefty.  Contacts are a lost cause thanks to the cast, so those’re out the window (much to my chagrin).  I’ve figured out how to even tie heroin-junkie tourniquets to seal garbage bags over the cast so I can shower.  Ok, in retrospect, that’s not such a flattering comparison in either dexterity or intelligence.  The actual process of showering’s a comedy unto itself.   However, that’s my personal little quasi-stripper dance routine to enjoy, sans tips and audience of course.  Anyway.

Dressing myself is an entirely different matter.  Yeah, I need to pull a kind of funky chicken to hike up shorts/pants, but shirts…  ohhhh, shirts are nothing short of a heartfelt gift from Beelzebub.  The elbow of the freaking cast is too big to fit through the sleeve of a button-up shirt.  This relegates me to tees, which is also my preferred type of attire anyway.  However, there’s one big catch.

Deodorant Stains

That's right. Deodorant stains. Unavoidable and failtacular.

Every damn time I shimmy into a shirt, I end up looking like I tried to slide-tackle Scarface.  No matter how I try to get a shirt on, I end up having to scrub at my shirt, while it’s on my body, to try and rub these suckers out.   This isn’t another in a string of poorly planned double-entendres for self-satisfaction.  That was last installment.  Anyway, of course, thanks to the way my upper body is built, my shoulders and lats get in the way much like Barbara Streisand’s nose during a make-out scene.  Yeah, I went there, and you can enjoy that mental image.

Why did I just do that to you?  Because now you understand the maddening solo tango I have to do just to get my shirt on.  Well, maybe it’s less of a dance than it is a one-armed wrestling match with myself.  As if that’s not maddening enough, let’s say a sink and washcloth aren’t readily available–  I end up clawing at the offending stretch of fabric like a flea-bitten stray dog just to get rid of the skid mark.  They’re a bitch to get rid of, seriously (especially on black).

But hey, it’s better than smelling like ass and laziness.

Unplug.

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Comments
  1. big e says:

    Hilarious. I have to see you try to put a shirt on lol! Don’t wanna see you in the shower. That’s not cool lol

  2. SB says:

    I don’t know… the whole shower stripper-dance thing kinda merged with the funky chicken bit in my brain, creating a HIGHLY entertaining scenario that I would not be opposed to watching. (Especially after you mentioned your shoulders…mmm.)

    … But then Barbara Streisand started nuzzling your ribcage and sh*t got weird.

  3. Triplet says:

    Put it on after you shimmy into your shirt. Wait, never mind… you’re probably too special to figure that one out at this point too. ;o}

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