Shaved for Her Displeasure – Part Two (The Unveiling of Fabio)

Posted: September 14, 2009 in manscaping, wife

Today…‘Shaved for Her Displeasure…PART TWO’

For Part here.

(insert Underdog theme song here)

When we last left our hero…

(my hero name would be ‘SuperFast Sex Man’…I’m not proud of this)

..he had just left his stress test with a partially shaven chest.

Although, really, I don’t remember any of that happening.

All I know is they gave me a soda to drink and then I felt woozy and I don’t remember much but now my chest is partially shaved and my ass is seriously killing me and what the fuck is this on my shorts…lube!?!?

Word to the wise:

NEVER schedule your stress test at the downtown YMCA.

You’re welcome.

Regardless, with my chest now looking similar to this:


…I decided to just shave the rest of it off.

So, shirt off..

(Hey…even with chest mange I look GOOOOOOOOD)

..I squatted myself over the toilet like I had just spent the night trying to keep up doing shots with Lindsey Lohan.

And fired up my trimmer.

As I moved the trimmer up and down and sideways…

…glob after glob of…



Holy crapshit.

That fucking hurt.

So good.

I’m doing that again!

Where was I?

Oh..yeah…shaving my chest.

..glob after glob of chest hair cascaded into the shitter.

So, with 14 pounds of freshly shaven hair floating around in my toilet…


(totally posting that on Ebay)

..I came out and looked into the mirror to behold my fresh new look.

* blink



You see…I’m in good shape.

I work out 5 days a week…two of those days are ab workouts.

(sitting down eating Oreos constitutes an ab workout, right?)

But, you know…all this hair on my chest and stomach covers all that shit up.

Woman with flashlight: “Hey…thought you did abs a lot…where’s your six-pack?”

Well…my friend with the pulsating sphincter, it’s right here behind all this hair on my magical tummy forest.*

* machete not included

So..what did I see?

Well…here’s what I EXPECTED to see:


But here’s what I got:

Well that’s just fucking awesome.

Realizing that it was now too late to put the hair back on…

(Is it a sin to desecrate the face of a “toilet hair Jesus?” Discuss.)

..I headed downstairs.

My wife was on the phone.

I came down, and stood shirtless in the kitchen…waiting for her to notice me.

This is actually tougher than it sounds, because she typically tries to avoid looking anywhere in my general direction.

Here’s how that went:

Wife (on the phone): “…and that’s when she said that OHMYGOD DID YOU SHAVE YOUR CHEST?!?! YOU SHAVED YOUR CHEST?!? OH…OH IT’S HORRIBLE!! WHY?! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!?”

Thanks, hon.

Thanks for doing that while you’re still on the phone.

Jesus H. Christ.

So, she gets off the phone finally…head in her hands McCauley Culkin style…and stares at me.

Wife: “Oh my God. Oh my God. Why would you do that?”

Me: “Well..I don’t know. Why? You don’t like it?”

* pause

..and then..

Wife: “I can’t believe you did that.”

* pause

Wife: “It was the ONE thing I actually liked.”




I know that’s not what she meant (at least I tell myself this to keep from crying)

…but nonetheless…

I’ve decided to try to fish out this hair and reattach it.

Sorry, Toilet Jesus (TJ).

I know not what I’ve done.


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