“Eww…you have a creepy-hair on your back! Can I pluck it!?” is something I would never, ever say to my wife, but I have heard numerous times from her. I’m not sure if she’s more excited about extracting something from my body or the ephemeral yet excruciating pain it causes me. A combination of both, probably.
She’s also really into some lady who goes by the descriptively disgusting “Dr. Pimple Popper” on the internet and one of her favorite 4th of July memories is when a friend thought he had a bug stuck in his ear, let her pull it out and, to everyone’s amazement and her sheer delight, it turned out to be an impressive amount of congealed wax. This strange piece of performance art may have been the third happiest moment of her life, well behind the births of our children but just eking out our wedding day. While I find all of these extrusions and extractions stomach-churningly repulsive, I don’t think my wife’s fascination is in any way odd. She’s a woman. And women love this crap.
Yeah, I know, #NotAllWomen. But a lot.
I decided to grow a vagina and I went to Dr. Pimple Popper’s Facebook page to see what all the fuss was about. I couldn’t handle it. I messaged Dr. Popper, aka Dr. Sandra Lee, and asked her about her site’s demographics. With millions of YouTube subscribers and Facebook followers, she was nice enough to get back to me and confirmed my suspicions; they are mostly women in their early to mid-40s. My wife is pretty much the demographic (though I’ll be clear that she is NOT 40 yet, so she doesn’t kick my ass or pluck any stray back hairs). When Allie sees these videos, her eyes light up. She is clearly not alone.
Feeling intrigued and slightly ill by this whole pimple popping, booger sucking, ear wax candling world, I opened the topic up to my Facebook page. Though not unanimous, a lot of chicks definitely dig pus. One wrote that “the level of satisfaction I get from a juicy blackhead is indescribable.” A bunch of them enjoy popping their significant other’s pimples. An actual quote from an actual person, “I’m lucky enough to have a hubby who will give in if he gets a pimple…anywhere except his face, he said there has to be some limitations…apparently.” Well, relationships are about compromise. And another, “I have been known to assist my husband in extracting gunk from his bacne.” Guh. And it’s not just for the weird heteros. “I would/do remove her blackheads, and we are both female. It is awesome and so relaxing.” This type of love, acceptance and total comfort with each other really is sweet. Gross, but sweet.
I avoided the phrase “grow balls” earlier not to be politically correct but because the expression is stupid. An amazing quote, often misattributed to Betty White, is “Why do people say ‘grow some balls?’ Balls are weak and sensitive! If you really wanna get tough, grow a vagina! Those things take a pounding!” (I was bummed to find out she didn’t actually say it; I friggin’ love Betty White!) Women are tough because they have to be. They’re gross because they have to deal with some real nasty stuff, man!
Jesus Christ may or may not have died for your sins, but women sure as hell bleed for humanity every god damn month. And, it’s not the regular blood that dudes are used to. It’s weird and chunky. If our dicks bled like that once a month, the fucking world would come to end. But women deal with it and get on with their day, maybe a little grumpier and ice cream-cravier, but who the fuck can blame them? Go get your woman some ice cream, dammit! You saying she doesn’t deserve it?
And how about childbirth? Ah, nature’s beautiful miracle…ha! One “ha!” is not enough…ha ha! And ha! again. Things open and stretch. Stuff comes out. Sometimes other stuff comes out of other places. Sometimes things rip. Sometimes things don’t want to come out so they have to be surgically removed and torn out. What emerges is beautiful. There is nothing more amazing, emotional or spiritual than seeing your newborn for the first time. But getting there is a nightmare; it’s a battle scene; it’s a motherfucking Tarantino movie. And knowing all of that, having lived through it, a lot of women, including my wife, do it again! I should REALLY go out and get that woman some ice cream.
I see popped pimples and “juicy blackheads” or even think about them for too long and I want to vomit. For women, for my wife, it’s just another day at the office. They know that out of extreme pain and chunky goo, like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, beauty can spring forth fully formed into this world. And sometimes it oozes out.
(This post originally ran on Amateur Idiot / Professional Dad)
About the author: Dave Lesser is a former attorney who much prefers his job as a stay-at-home dad to two hilarious and adorable children. His amazing wife fully supports his love of obstacle course, road and trail races. He ran his first marathon over two years ago and still won’t shut up about it. Dave has contributed to Time Ideas, the Huffington Post, NJ Family, SheKnows, the Good Men Project and others that he can’t quite remember right now. He saves his really good stuff for his own blog, Amateur Idiot / Professional Dad. Follow him on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook or, at a safe distance, in real life.
