I’m asking you not to judge, but I made a trade recently.  I traded in my Guy Card for a nifty, made in the U.S.A. exfoliating mitt, and obviously, the two are mutually exclusive.

It all started a few weeks ago when I bought some super-duper self-tanning cream that was supposed to be blotch and streak-free. Except for a few blotches and some hardly noticeable streaks that run down the middle of both of my legs, it worked as advertised.  Maybe I should have read the instructions a little closer. In the microscopic print, (viewed best through a high-powered, NASA-approved telescope) it said to ‘use after exfoliating skin thoroughly.’  Oops…missed that part. Much to my surprise, my wife then presented me with my very own exfoliating mitt (free from Job Lots this week with any $5.00, non-sale item purchase.)

Full disclosure: I had to look up the word ‘exfoliate.’ I knew it had something to do with the skin but, beyond that, no clue. Now, however, after doing some extensive research, I know that it involves rubbing an abrasive, granular substance against one’s skin until the first layer of bone begins to show through.

 Giving up my guy card is not an easy thing for any man to part with so I thought for a quick minute about how I might be able to hang onto it. I figured that if I exfoliated using grade 4 sandpaper in the shower,  the water would wash the blood down the drain.  I think it was right around then that I had a rare moment of clarity.  What was I thinking?  What’s wrong with me? I  suddenly realized that it takes a real man to admit that he exfoliates, damnit!  Truth be told, I did think for a hot minute about searching online to see if there was a 12-step program for men like me. “Hello, my name is Bob and I exfoliate.”  But, now  I’m confident and I’m proud. I feel free. After all,  I’m about to do what very few men would even think of doing, much less talk openly about it. Start the water baby, I’m ready!

As I stepped in the shower and strapped that beautiful mitt to my hand, I rubbed that thing up and down my legs with such passion and purpose, I actually thought that I might be just mere moments away from a mild orgasm and I owe it all to my new handy dandy exfoliating mitt. Seriously, I’d love to exfoliate every minute of every day were it not for my fear of going blind.  Give me back that Guy Card. On second thought, gold plate it first. I’m a man, damnit and I exfoliate! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a mani-pedi to schedule.


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