splish splash

By amy ~ November 14th, 2008 @ 2:57 pm

This week, I am prompted to contemplate the ever-present issue of personal hygiene, having increasingly noticed a decline in standards following the passing of the summer months (the cooler weather has brought with it a greater propensity for the wearing of ‘fleece’, a bizarre synthetic substance which makes me shudder and that I blame at least in part for many things). On glancing through the message boards, it seems I am not alone, and the first thing I ought to do is hand over the reins to the lovely Pru Moore, who has lately written an extremely succinct and easy to follow guide on cleanliness for anyone intending to enjoy the intimate company of a lady (or a gentleman) here.

Anyone in any doubt at all, which I’m afraid to say does include some of my callers over the last couple of weeks, needs to read this thoroughly (there won’t be a test as such, but I have reached the point where I will tolerate it no more, and will from now on will be keeping to hand Jeyes fluid and a wire brush). Without wishing to be graphic, nor to induce paranoia in the vast majority of scrupulous visitors who are either properly clean upon arrival or keen to avail themselves of my lovely wet room if not, I will henceforth be insisting on thorough showering for anyone who turns up in a less than pristine condition. I am referring mainly (but not exclusively) to the armpit area, having encountered a set (belonging to a charming man) last week that I feared may blind my eyes and burn the hair from my head – standing in the shower with your arms by your side may wet, but it does not wash and unless you possess a shower appliance of particularly innovative design (perhaps from Japan), then you will actually have to do some proper hands-on scrubbing yourself. With soap, please; and in the case of more intimate areas, please rinse the soap properly away – it does not taste nice (and nor does fragrance which, however expensive, is not a worthy substitute for washing). I shouldn’t need to be telling this to grown men!

Other areas (apart from the obvious, which Pru has eloquently covered far more comprehensively than I could have) include hair and hands/nails (the two biggest holding pens for stale cigarette smoke, which is a little like sweat in that most of us have no objection to either if they are freshly generated). And please do check your nails for jagged/sharp edges (assuming you would like to touch me – and if not, why not?)

Having got the unpleasantness out of the way, I am eagerly preparing for a busy week next week, culminating in another few days in London where, as mentioned last week, I will be catching up with a few old friends as well as visiting the Erotica trade show at Olympia for the first time. Following a lucky escape (at least as far as the bill is concerned) at the dentists after a horrifically painful tooth-cracking incident last week, I have also decided to make a trip of it and am planning a trip to a West End musical and a spot of Christmas shopping – as some of you will know, the apartment is coming on in leaps and bounds and taking a break from it all will be a very pleasant diversion!

I have noticed that even my early afternoon callers are leaving in near darkness these days and am finding that the late night telephone calls have all but ceased; fortunately the regular opportunities for brisk and sociable exercising have thus far kept me from my natural inclination towards hibernation and also allowed me to indulge my vaguely-formed idea that the changing season brings the necessity to consume plenty of extra calories in order to maintain normal physical warmth and well being (and therefore keep me at my most comforting and enjoyable). I am pleased to report that it seems to be working so far, and I do not envisage any complaints – anyone who has concerns about my figure is more than welcome to help me burn these off in any way they see fit (availability permitting, naturally).

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