Sage Advice 102: How Do You Guys Feel About Your Bodies?

Because they’re gross. I don’t mean in terms of attraction. I’m sure you’re an absolutely pleasant person to stare at from a distance. Rather, I’m talking about what your body does. Really think about it for a few seconds. Just consider how many holes you have. Count the ones you are absolutely sure of and then realize that there are way more tiny holes you can’t count. The fact that we aren’t leaking all the time is downright magical.

Your body just leaves things around. So many things just fall off and pour out of you consistently. It’s a never ending, 24/7 cycle of things just flaking and oozing from you. Skin, hair, blood, tears, sweat, piss, shit, jizz, and whatever you call the wet stuff on an excited vagina (I don’t know the technical term, but I call it muff-debris). All of this stuff just slides right off you, day in and day out. You barely notice for the most part, but it’s always happening; you’re consistently falling apart.

I like to wonder what would happen if all that stuff was collected. Gathered into a bucket or something. Dumped out in front of you. Molded into a lumpy version of you. A lumpy mesh of fluids and waste version of you would just stand there and stare at you.

“How’s it going?” you might ask.

“Inttttt’s g-g-g-oin-ing-ing-ing ffffffffffffffffffffine,” it would respond. Do keep in mind that this is a muff-debris and urine filled version of you. You can’t expect it to be the most articulate version of you.

“Well now, where do we go from here?” you would query.

“Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiccccccceeee Crea-reammmmmmmm,” it might say.

“Yes, ice cream with my muff-debris and urine filled version of me would make for a delightful day.”

And then you and your new friend would go off into the sunset, enjoying tasty treats and the little amount of time you have together before it is inevitably destroyed by a strong wind or an angry mob. That’s what I would do with my lumpy version of me, anyway. You can do whatever you want. It’s your you.

-Matthew Fugere

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