A Permanent Reminder

“Will you stop scratching your balls!” I screamed across the office floor at Max on a stressful Tuesday afternoon.

I sit opposite Max and all day he scratched, adjusted, rubbed…then sniffed and generally moved his genital area about for the entire office, especially me to see.

It wasn’t that I had a problem with the actual scratching/touching. God, I love a good grab and scratch each day but this was just getting annoying. Annoying like a fly buzzing around your head that just won't go away.

Max leans over to me and whispers softly “Sorry, I shaved 2 days ago and my balls are red raw, they itch like hell!”

This didn’t shock me at all. Max was recently married to a Muslim lady and had to keep things “clean” down below as per Islamic guidance, or so he had been told.

“Why don’t you do it at a weekend, then you will be fine for Monday?” I asked, thinking this was a logical solution.

“1, we only have sex on a Wednesday evening and by the time Wednesday comes I will have hair again and 2, I usually use Immac, there’s no scratching, but I ran out.”

“Imaac?, Really? That works?” I asked inquisitively with a certain menace in my eyes.

“Yeah, just whack it on and wait 4 mins then it all comes off. Easy!” Max said confidentially like he had done it a thousand times before.

This got me thinking that maybe I should try this. I have dipped my toe in to genital hair removal before. You know, for special occasions, such as birthdays, times where there has been a chance, any small chance of a shag and also when I have been bored and thought it would pass the time.

“Yeah….it seems so easy, and I know Tim likes it a bit trimmed….I should….NO, I must do this!” I said to myself whilst the train plodded through the suburban trail.

So, on the way home I headed off to Boots to look at the dilapidatory creams. When I got there I got a basket and strategically put in some Lynx, shaving cream and a couple more manly things so that when I got to the till it would definitely disguise the fact I was there to buy something to remove hair from my balls.

I get to the Immac aisle. “Oh my God, there are hundreds. Immac, Imaac with Aloe Vera, Imaac for women ‘in their prime’ Ima….Wait a minute.” I said to myself scanning the shelf.

And there I saw it, the one I knew would be for me…

“Imaac for men! Bingo!,” I screamed loudly. The young asian cashier turns and looks at me with a slightly disturbed look.

I put it in to my basket knowing that it was now acceptable for men to use and I have no shame. I trot of to the till, pay the £18.95 for my disguise items and skip off home, knowing that Tim will not be home for at least 2 hours.

Up I go to the bathroom and strip bare. “Yeah, definitely needs a good trim.” I think to myself looking at the small face mirror which has been pointed at my crotch.

I open the bottle and am taken aback by the smell. I think “Smells like..god knows what…better read the instructions, could be dangerous.”

I scan down the ingredients and see hydroproxysomething, urea “UREA! Isn’t that in piss?!”

The label reads that I should place it on the skin and leave for no longer than 6 mins, testing after 4. ‘DO NOT use on face, nipples, head or genital area.’ It screamed at me.

“Meh, prob just means for stupid people, who don’t know how to use it properly” I think to myself with a niggling feeling at the back of my head.

I unscrew the bottle and place it on my hand. I smear the cream on my balls and try and do some artistic thing with the rest of my pubes. Whilst constantly wiping it away from the end of my knob to ensure I can go to the toilet in comfort again.

4 minutes pass and nothing has happened. I try and scrape some off and nope nothing. So I leave it and go to the bedroom to pick up some new clothes.

Then suddenly there was a burning…a pain that can only be described as being like acid had been poured on my balls whilst being ignited by a flame thrower.

“Oh my god, oh my god, get it of me, get it off me!” I shouted whilst jumping in to the shower in to freezing water, rescuing my poor balls from the acid erosion they were experiencing.

I look at my balls, they are red and hairless, so it had worked in a way. I put on my clothes carefully and go and sit downstairs and watch TV for the rest of the night not moving or saying anything about the incident that had taken place to Tim.

The next morning I wake up. I am in less pain I take a look at my balls and there is a patch of sore skin, like when you graze your knee at school. I very slowly put on a plaster knowing that the rubbing of my pants was going to hurt.

I go to work wobbling along, trying to reduce the pain coming from my testicles by walking like I have rickets.

“This is your bloody fault” I quietly scream at Max. “You told me that that Imaac stuff works, I have now got a burn on my bollocks”

Max now bursts out laughing, looks at me like an idiot and says “Did you use the sensitive? You are supposed to use the sensitive one.”

“No, you didn’t tell me that! I used the full strength, manly one, I didn’t know I needed the sensitive”

“Well…I thought it was implied, as if you would ever use the full strength one” Max states looking at me with a bemused look and giggling slightly.

I sit down, feeling bruised, battered and humiliated. The whole office will know by lunchtime as Max is known at my workplace for having the discretion of Dot Cotton

“Oh well, you live you learn” I sigh to myself, looking at Max and getting no sympathy.

So, from now on, every time I look at my balls, I am reminded, to A) never fully trust any advice given to you that seems too good to be true or just plain stupid and B) never ever use dilapidation cream on your balls.