I’m DTF, Am I Going to Hell?

Hey joonies,

We got a white girl on the blog.

We know Saaghi really hates on them, but today we have a special guest post from  SiennaWe thought it was time to show Iranian girls everywhere: White girls struggle with some of the same issues that we do and Sienna is a true testament to that.  So read on and be enlightened:

When it comes to sex, Catholics and Muslims are NOT THAT DIFFERENT.  Surprised? Both religions place virginity on a pedestal.

Both religions teach women that if you lose it: 

(1). you’ve committed a seriously immoral act (meaning you’re now a WHORE).

(2).  you HAVE to marry him or your life will be over.

Trust me– I’ve seen it.  My Catholic friend entered college convinced she’d save it  for her wedding night… and two years later drunkenly had sex with her boyfriend.  Now she’s forcing herself to stay in a horrible, unhealthy relationship because she’s convinced she HAS to marry him.

I understand the reasoning behind this religious pressure — who wants to teach their kids its okay to bang every piece of ass that walks by?  But shame will not (and never has) deterred people from shacking up… all the religious pressure just makes sex LESS HEALTHY and MORE DANGEROUS. 

Case in point:

My Catholic university did not hand out a single condom in the health center, never breached the topic of sex in our mandatory health classes freshman year, and anyone caught having sex would be kicked off campus. But do you think that the threat of being thrown out of school ever deterred COLLEGE KIDS from having sex? NO F*CKING WAY. We just didn’t talk about it and judged everyone who did it (even if we were doing it, or were just jealous). And that is NOT HEALTHY.

Here’s why –

First reason should be a no-brainer really: condoms prevent STDs and unwanted pregnancy- and no one really wants to get screwed in THAT way… just sayin’.

And the second reason pisses me off even more: making sex such a TABOO topic, such forbidden act, teaches people to be ashamed. 

For too long I lived with this GUILT stemming from everything sexual… making out with my high school boyfriend in the backseat, going to second base with the cute guy from that dorm party, and heaven forbid… MASTURBATING.  If you’re reading this and laughing, thinking how prude I am… well you might be right.  That’s what sucks the most.  Along with the guilt of being sexual, comes the JUDGEMENT from others.

Get this: I’m a virgin (no shame either– ladies give it up when you want to, no sooner and no later).  And yet, I’ve been called a whore and a slut (stories for a different time). 

It took me way too long to realize that I have nothing to be ashamed of.  I’m 22 and just becoming comfortable with my sexuality, and that sucks.  I wish I would’ve realized sooner because all of that shame and religious pressure made me really INSECURE.  Its inevitable really: When your parents, your priest, your friends are teaching you to keep it in your pants till you’re married, to reject what is NATURAL and HEALTHY and FUN… well you’ll end up not knowing up from down.

Religion has always been a part of my life, not through force or pressure, but because I think it is important.  And I used to think that sex was something special — something to be saved for marriage.  My boyfriend thought the same thing, so it was never an issue.  But as the years passed, I met people who exposed me to a new, radical idea: sex isn’t always sacred.

Yes it certainly can be.  And at times, it should be.  But I’ve come to realize that sex doesn’t mean everything, and neither does my virginity.  So I no longer plan on waiting for marriage, but I also don’t plan on losing my virginity to a guy I meet at 3 am in a seedy bar.  I’ll never be the type to sleep around, and I know that. But I also know that my first time, while not meaning everything, doesn’t mean nothing. So until I find someone I want to share that moment with, I’ll wait.  And that’s MY choice.  

Here’s the bottom line: SEX and RELIGION are NOT incompatible.  

You can be religious, you can believe in God and be a good person, you can go to Heaven and still be sexually active.  Whether you think you were created by an act of God, Allah, or your parents and a bottle of wine, you shouldn’t be ashamed of your body and how you were created.  NO religion should make you feel bad about yourself and your sexuality.  

SEXANDFESSENJOON@GMAIL.COM

FACEBOOK US 

Love,
Sienna سیعنا

Zahra, You have a Hole.

Zahra Noorbakhsh: Writer. Comedian. Satirist. Filmmaker.

Our Favorite Unconventional & Funny Female.

Why? Because she’s decided to tell the world the challenges she faced growing up in a Persian family by publishing her dating experiences as a Muslim Iranian-American in “Love, InshAlla: The Secret Love Lives of American Muslim Women.”

Huffington Post and NY Times (CLICK FOR LAUGHS) recently published an excerpt of her story on the awkward parent-child sex talk she received in her teenage years on their website: Her mother not-so-delicately reveals that 14 year-old Zahra has a hole, and she must guard it from the hole-hunters (men).

The S&F Team caught up with Zahra to get the low-down on what happened after she discovered her ‘hole’, and how she came to a compromise between her American-ness and certain Iranian traditions.

- Growing up, how did you feel about being Iranian?

I hated it. I didn’t get to love my Persian-ness until I was in college and developed a penchant for sarcasm, which helped me combat the stupid questions. Up until then, “Iranian” was the label I was born with that left me constantly having to defend my heritage, where I felt forced to patiently answer questions, like “What’s a Persian?

I remember when I was in 5th grade, my teacher was telling the class how Iranians were “not-good people” ruled by a “a very-bad man,” Khomeini, and what a hard job George Bush Senior had, trying to stay out of the Iran-Iraq war. I could feel my classmates glaring at me. I should’ve told my parents what she’d said, but instead I just came home screaming: “WHY DO WE HAVE TO BE IRANIAN?!” I threw my backpack on the couch and ran into my room crying. My parents were so confused. They were like, “What do you mean? Everybody else sucks, we’re the best ones!”

“Everybody else” of course, refers to EVERYBODY ELSE. An ego I’ve come to love about my Persian-self!

My parents were also very adamant about holding onto their culture and religion and this was frustrating for me as a kid. I so badly wanted them to assimilate. My mom wore hijab at the time, which ALIENATED us from Iranians who didn’t practice and the rest of the non-Iranian, non-hijab wearing population.

“Now, in retrospect, I realize my parents held on so tightly because the culture was threatened at every angle, and I’m glad they did.”

immigrant parents…they try.

- How About now? How do you deal with the cultural conflict?

I get frustrated with the idea of cultural conflict as a ‘bad’ thing. We have to have conflict in order to reflect and develop; people need conflict in their relationships in order to grow the hell up, cultures need to be challenged by their younger generations and by opposing ways of life, because that’s how we develop into healthier societies. Personally, I’m glad America IS a melting pot and got that going early on, because I’m really not into scarlet-letter “A” iron-ons. Maybe another culture will help us get passed the religious right in this country so they’ll get their stranglehold off my Planned Parenthood.

EVERY country needs its immigrants, because at the very least, we learn from conflict– as individuals and countries.  My whitey-white boyfriend needs me, because without me he walks out into public wearing his button-down shirt with basketball shorts, tube socks and hiking boots (I’m not even going to scare you with the color clashing happening here, I’ll just orange is in the mix). 

Our foreign policy, foodie culture, trade, educational system, and the mining of our own resources are equally in dire need of a Persian girlfriend. 

When I hear anti-immigrant sentiment, demanding everyone to “go home,” it makes me laugh.  You know what happens to a country whose immigrants don’t stick around and really are just tourists? It’s called, Greece!  Love your immigrants so they don’t leave you.

[Knowledge  = power.  Learn from the unfamiliar.]

Zahra Noorbakhsh

- How do you believe your friends influenced you?

I went to a different elementary school for almost every year of grade school. I didn’t have a sense of identity that was actually “me” and not just “me conforming to yet another new school-culture.”

I didn’t have a lot of Persian friends growing up, aside from a Farsi school that my dad used to drive us to every Saturday, a two-hour drive from Sunnyvale to Sacramento, so that my younger sister and I could be around other Muslim Iranians and learn to speak Farsi. My parents were really dedicated to giving us some experience they’d had of “home” and “community” as they’d known it in Iran. No matter where we moved to in the Bay Area (Fremont, Sunnyvale, Los Altos, San Francisco, Danville)–Farsi school was a constant.

And apart from the consistency, it was nice, because all the girls at the school wore hijab and girls and guys were expected to dress modestly, so it was an escape from the social pressures of middle school—where some girls wouldn’t talk to me if I wasn’t wearing Stussy shirts and Guess jeans. (sad to learn recently that after 9-11—and the Islamophobia that came with it—their school was shut down) I didn’t connect as much with my non-practicing Persian friends as a kid. In my teen years, I felt from them the same pressure to conform to Western standards of beauty, which always left me feeling too fat, too tall, too loud and just not “hip.”

It wasn’t until college, again, that I started to get more comfortable with my own femininity and culture that I stepped out into society—as the French would say—and came into my own.

For me, my religion had been a security blanket from all the social pressures coming at me, demanding that I conform. As a Muslim girl, my answer was always simple: “I can’t, it’s against my religion (smile and then proceed to educate).”

This of course was my experience of a select group of 3 people I came into contact with and does not mean that you now go to your Persian co-worker or Persian neighbor and blather on about how you heard from your Persian “token” friend, Zahra, that Persian girls were “all” too into their Stussy shirts and Guess jeans to play with Mervyn’s-brands Zahra (that’s what they called me) and look at me and all my cultural insight—NO, you’re not allowed to keep reading this interview if you’re going to do that! However, if you want to facebook me so that you can facebook them and make them feel really, really bad about the nickname… I will make it easy for you to make that happen.

- So what happened after you discovered your hole and let a hole hunter in?

Well, I definitely wanted to be able to relax and have fun, but it was so much more complicated than I’d imagined. Guys seemed to look at themselves as the “conquerors” no matter how I approached it – which just kept me from trying to sleep with them at all. It’s definitely guys that can’t just have fun without confusing it with a bunch of bullshit.

My mother in the story I wrote for Love Inshallah was right: most guys really are after “your hole,” or at the very least, they’re not very good at seeing past “holes” well enough to think like a human being!

As much as I hated admitting it, I realized, sex for me couldn’t be casual – it was so much more of a mind game than dating actually was.

I had to bite the bullet and date, get to know the guy, and make sure he was the type that would be able to have fun, equally, and not make assumptions about me just because I was having fun too.

I found that guy and haven’t let go of him since. It’s too damn crazy out there, man!

- So what piece of advice would you give younger girls just discovering their hole and hole-hunters?

There is a huge misconception that guys don’t carry the relationship drama that girls have. Guys are idiots where emotions are involved, especially guys in college! They won’t admit that they get attached or that they fall in love. They project it all and then make like Bill Clinton, and deny the intent to gratify. Always listen to your heart, and if it tells you that you’re confused, they’re probably being confusing!

When you think its you, its probably them.

(AMEN TO THAT ZAHRA)

- How many Persian guys have you dated and which do you prefer?

Not a one. I can’t date a man better dressed than me. It’s just too much pressure. I like men that I don’t have to perform for – men that don’t need me to be a princess so they can feel like a prince. I have to perform all day! When I come home to a guy, I like to know that I can be myself: crack dirty jokes, watch Bones on Netflix (yes, Bones, it’s embarrassing), and just be an idiot in Target pajamas. Not that Persian men don’t love their girls in Target PJ’s!

- On One Night stands?

For straight women, one night stands are a ‘look as sexy as possible’ event. If you’re into that, go for it. I can’t enjoy myself with that kind of distraction. I think it’s always better to get to know a guy. Then when something embarrassing happens during the deed – like it always does – you can laugh about it!

- How do you like your fessenjoon?

Savory!

Buy the book because we guarantee you’ll enjoy it as much as we did: Love, InshAllah available January 24th and check her out at: www.ZahraComedy.com

FACEBOOK US

sexandfessenjoon@gmail.com

XX,

THE S&F TEAM

Let Me Pretend I Care…OK I’m Done.

HELLLOOOOOO

Imagine if I started this post by saying:

“OMG. SO hungry”

“Ugh can’t find one pair of my socks, dont you hate when that happens?”

“Cooking FESSENJOON with @FARRAH, loving life!”

—guess what you joons would think–“well, i really kinda dont care”. Maybe some of you guys wouldn’t be as polite, and just navigate to a different webpage or send us some email saying “wtf are you writing about” to sexandfessenjoon@gmail.com

Well, thats how I feel about certain people when I login to facebook, twitter, tumblr, take YOUR PICK!

What is this world coming to? Updating social media with constant statuses on your life, your emotional health, or even physical health (ex: “Feeling so sick today! BOO!”) — you’re inflating your ego.

Do you really think we care?

NO. Even if we pretend we do– we really don’t give a fuck. I personally don’t care how you’re feeling at some random moment, unless it is relevant to MY existence. Does that sound selfish? Its not, its NORMAL.

*by we i mean the rest of the victims of your overshare: your fbook friends, twitter followers, etc.

People already are very self-centered: they think they are the center of the universe– that is natural– but all that social media does is inflate this notion.

All of a sudden, emotions and moments aren’t passing or fleeting, they are documented phenomenas.

PREGAMING @Tinas house! My girls are my life

Guess how many fucks I give?

Feeling low, I hate my job– need a vacation

…..really?

DAY 3 OF MY NEW YEARS DIET! GO ME!

…………………….REALLY? do you want me to ‘LIKE’ this and tell you what a great job you’re doing? Because at the end of the day, if you eat a fucking cookie or run 10 miles–I dont give a shit. Since when were personal accomplishments valued against the applause they got?

Anyway, I’ve gotten it down to 4 categories (some overlap):

1. The Emotional Oversharers: Yeah, they’re the ones updating you every second on how they’re feeling, often its depressing statuses that seem more like vague Emma Bronte poems. Or about how ambitious they are “Feeling ambitious today, time to kick ass!”…uh..OK? is that supposed to inspire me to not procrastinate my responsibilities? Who made you fckin Lance Armstrong.

image

2. The Lyricists: We all love music, sometimes we love certain lyrics TOO much we’ll say it at inopportune times (“BALL SO HARD”) but song lyrics were not meant to be photo captions or statuses. I dont care if you look like Megan Fox, I will be LOLing very heard when I see a “behind these hazel eyes” as your profile caption. Or even better– “my chick bad, my chick hood, my chick do stuff dat yo chick wish she could”…..I’ve seen that as a caption to a very random self portrait, and I have almost died laughing.

3. The Life-Flaunters: These are the people that tell you where they are, what they’re doing, all the time– and I really believe they think they’re mini-celebrities. Do they realize they just facilitate stalking? Oh, but they like the attention? Oh, so they’re attention whores. Got it. But really, these people tell you things as if to make their lives a billboard, here’s a FBOOK UPDATE: FRIENDS ARE NOT FANS.

Having 2000 friends, and 2000 stalkers doesn’t make you a Kardashian, it makes you a joke.

and please please please-I’ve seen this a lot–don’t endorse brands, if they’re NOT paying you or you work for them. “Just had HONEST TEA, the.best.tea.ever”– if I ask you for a tea recommendation, sure, tell me about it. If no one has asked, don’t do free marketing. Go do something real with your life and make some real $$$$.

4. The RandomDetail-ers: “Didn’t know I could make cake with applesauce!”, “Benching 400 at the gym, time for a protein shake”, “Sunday mornings are the best with a cup of coffee and a good book”— I have nothing to say about them, because the ridiculousness is pretty apparent.

Now I don’t want to go into an analysis of why our society is ridiculous like this, but ill give you a few reasons– and maybe we can all agree to go on a DIET.

FACT ONE: If you rely on feedback from your facebook or other web outlets, you don’t have friends. Seriously, if you think having more than 1000 friends makes you popular– you probably still think Santa Claus exists. By creating the ‘FACADE’ of having many friends, you’re losing out on making real ones. Instead of calling someone up or texting them something personally relevant to them– you post a status to gain exposure by many people.

Do you see where I’m going with this? Its a cycle, people stop connecting personally with each other, and instead begin just creating a glass cage for themselves. People watch you from the outside but you can’t hear them from the inside–cause you’re too busy thinking about how you feel today and what song lyric you can caption your picture with.

FACT TWO: Along the same lines as glass cages, you’re losing your privacy. I know we’ve all seen and heard of the lawsuits and advertising strategies that surround Facebook– but its more than that: The lines between our public and private lives have blurred. This is not just thanks to social media, its thanks to Reality TV and its rising popularity. Reality TV stars like Kim Kardashian make us believe that our lives are like neat TV episodes, and millions of viewers watch. We’ve forgotten that there are really limits and walls that need to stay up. Telling the world about your constant depressive nature isn’t going to get you help and isn’t raising awareness, sorryboutit– all it does is create this fake feeling that some fake friends (who you probably haven’t seen in person in a long time) CARE.

THEY DON’T CARE.

Here are examples of what needs to be private: your hate for your boyfriend (your love life basically), that slut you effed last night, your EMOTIONS, your friday night activities, Your Professional life (thank god employers regulate that shit), and your diseases.

I’m sure we’d all be apalled if we saw a status: “AH, just got back from the doctor–Looks like I have Leukemia!”

By the way: Don’t tell the world if you’re having digestive problems, please. That’s just cruel and unusual punishment.

FACT THREE: Less is More. LESS. Less. Less. Do you know why an Hermes Bag is worth more than a Louis Vuitton bag? Because they make less of it a year. Its basic economics and basic business. The less there is available, the more people value it– think: caviar, guys/girls who play hard to get, and money. if you’re flooding everyone’s newsfeed, at some point people stop listening to you– so when you really have something of value to say, or you’re really doing something that needs a large social network (i.e, raising money, marathons, news etc) you won’t be getting enough feedback. People are so used to hearing worthless things, they tune it out. Don’t get to that point.

Make your page a destination of information that is valuable.

Now if you consider yourself an overshare queen or king, there is help. you can email sexandfessenjoon@gmail.com, or you can follow the following diet– i am available as a sponsor (just sayin!)

image

A Saaghi Diet:

- Gather your dignity and self-respect, and walk away from the laptop,smartphone, or iPad.

- Count how many friends call/text you a day– if its a depressing number, time to get out there and be a real social person. I know you can’t do it from the comfort of your livingroom/toilet/class and in your sweats, but it sure as hell feels better.

- if you really can’t help yourself from updating 840302480324 times a day, time for some serious rehab: everytime you have an urge, mark a tally mark on your forehead. Finally, you will be getting the attention you want- and you will have a very good time explaining to people what a few hundred tally lines are doing on your forehead. You might even make a friend. (that you’ll add on fbook two minutes later)

Think I missed a category? Or do you enjoy oversharing and think I should care?

FACEBOOK US

SEXANDFESSENJOON@GMAIL.COM

Hugs and Kisses,

saaghi  ساقی

OMG, Did You Just Poke A Hole in Me?!

Hey joonies,

I hope you all had a faaaaaabulous weekend- only the best for all of you :)

If your Irooni family is anything like mine then you were incredibly sheltered growing up.  No rated R movies… PG-13 if your family was feeling generous, no interactions with boys, and sadly, you were EXCUSED from sex-education in junior high and high school.

I was the ONE kid who was forced to go to the library during science class while everyone else got to watch awkward sex-ed videos and read about the female/male genitalia.  Instead, I wrote a five-page paper on Osmosis.  How exciting.  I remember kids coming out of class laughing hysterically at the video they had to watch that day, or poking fun at the teacher for saying “penis” or “pubic hair” in class… and I really hated that I couldn’t be a part of it.

Shunned from sex talk EVERYWHERE

While kids were making jokes about blow jobs or holding 2 fingers up, which was supposed to mean “masturbating,” I was just lost.  I had no idea what any of it meant.  Two fingers means masturbating?  Sticking your tongue between two fingers means eating out?  WHAT THE FUCK IS EATING OUT? What’s so dirty about sucking on a popsicle?

These were the questions I struggled with in the ninth grade while the other kids just laughed at their so-called “creativity.” 

What’s so dirty about a hot dog? Minus Bachmann’s mouth…

The biggest reason I couldn’t understand these references was because I didn’t know that girls had another hole that didn’t involve peeing.  I thought sex was when the penis rubbed against a girl’s “private part.”  Being forbidden to use tampons didn’t help my ignorance.

What can you expect when my parent’s version of the “sex talk” involved the MOST ridiculous interpretation you can ever imagine.  When I asked where babies came from, my parents told me that when you really love someone, you make love (no further details provided).  Therefore, I thought “making love” was holding hands at the sushi restaurant (which we only went to on SPECIAL occasions).  

I had NO backups… if only we had the internetS back then

So imagine my surprise the first time I ever went to second base (getting “fingered”).  

It was the summer after ninth grade (told you, I started early… all that censorship didn’t keep the curiosity away).  I told my parents I was going to dinner with my girlfriends, when really, I was going to meet my ninth grade boyfriend at the movie theaters.  We chose an outdated, unpopular movie and sat in the last row.  As the movie started, we started kissing and feeling around.

Messy make out: check. People in theaters: NO check

He put his hands in my pants and suddenly, it felt like someone poked a hole in my “private part.”  I pushed him away and asked him what the fuck he was doing, to which he answered (nonchalantly), “um fingering you…”

That summer day I discovered I had another hole (not including my koon).    

Wait… do it again, I kinda liked that

The problem with being sheltered is this: I wasn’t prepared for ANYTHING.  I had to learn the hard way… in the moment.  If I had known that there would be some type of penetration, I would have made damn sure that not only were his hands clean, but that it didn’t happen at the fucking movie theaters.

What’s the point of keeping your kid in the dark?  I truly believe that if I had been educated enough to know not just about how people’s bodies work… but what the risks or possible outcomes were, then I would have been more inclined to take precautions rather than having my first sexual experience at a public venue.

If I HAD been more aware of SEX, then my experiences COULD have been more closely aligned with this:

Movie theaters ain’t got nothing on this

Rather than this:

OMG why does his penis move…

Okay, that’s pretty unlikely– sex is always awkward when you first start doing it.  But I would have really liked to know that I had a fucking HOLE that boys were going to try to get at.  Is that really too much to ask?!

So for all you sheltered joonies out there wondering what sex really means, just remember this:

Don’t be afraid to ask questions from someone OTHER than your Irooni mother.  Sometimes the best lessons come from experience.  

But most importantly, BE SAFE.

Make sure hands are clean and nails are trimmed (just sayin’)

Am I the only one who was sheltered enough to NOT know that sex involved penetration?

SEXANDFESSENJOON@GMAIL.COM

FACEBOOK US

Love,

FARRAH فراه

BITCH-SLAPPED

Hey joooons,

Its funny how it starts.  When we first lose our virginity, we’re all just fucking nervous.  Am I supposed to put my leg here?  My arm there?  Where the hell am I supposed to LOOK?! The pressure is insurmountable.  We’re not just nervous about getting our hearts broken, but we are worried about what lies we can come up with if our parents find out.

But, once the pressure subsides… its gets a bit easier from there.  We learn.  We figure out where our arms and legs go.  As for where to look?  Just keep your damn eyes closed… jk.  But you get my drift.

The best part?  It starts to feel really good.  We start to become comfortable enough to experiment.  Experimenting is always fun… until the guy takes it too far.

um…. raincheck?

My story:

I was dating this guy for a few months and it seemed promising: No stripper-esque qualities (click here), family-oriented, smart, any Persian girl’s dream man.  He was even a bit light on the hairy-ness.  So after a few months of courting, I decided it was time to… give it up… beat cakes… knock boots… FUCK.  The first time was cool.  We were just getting to know each other sooo we were still trying to please each other. Then he got comfortable.

Lucky me.  

One night, halfway through sex… he says, “SLAP ME.”  I thought maybe he was just trying to dirty talk me and I thought if I ignored it, he would realize I’m not into that kind of dirty talk.

But he didn’t stop.

He kept saying, “slap me… slap me,” getting louder each time.  Until…

I slapped him.

I still cringe when I think about it.  It was probably the most awkward sexual experience I’ve ever had.  What the fuck do you do after you slap someone?  Just keep going?  YOU LOSE RHYTHM!

I awkwardly tried to get back into “rhythm” and keep going, but ALL I could think about the entire time was the slap.  Of course, he was just fine throughout it… like nothing had happened.  But from that moment on, I dreaded sex with him because I knew he would always ask me to … “slap him” and frankly, I just didn’t want to slap whoever I was fucking across the face.

This will NOT be the outcome if you try some weird shit on me…

I know sometimes we like to experiment- God knows I do (I’m Persian, didn’t you hear? We’re all “freaks”): spanked a little, and hey, I’m even down for a little choke-age (choking, jk)… but SLAP?! Its not like I’m mad at you.  Why do we have to fight during sex?

Do it

I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to slap someone.  REALLY smack someone out of anger… just bitch-slap the shit out of them. BUT NOT DURING SEX.  Can we just leave that for the fights and then FOLLOW with sex? That’d be great, thanks.

Obviously, it didn’t work between me and Mr. Slap Fetish.  The thing with experimenting and trying new things is this:

The pleasure and feeling of sex is great, but if the REASON for sex is lost amongst the “extra stuff,” then it can be damaging to your relationship.

Fantasies during sex or about sex aren’t just fun, they’re exciting.  But, certain fantasies can be destructive and its important to be able to be secure enough to communicate, as lame it sounds.  You don’t want to ruin a relationship because you’re worried that one day, the slap your sweet boyfriend keeps asking for during intercourse can one day transform into a punch in the face.

Trust me, rough sex is fun… but you don’t want to go to class or work the next day with a black eye because your lover retaliated all while claiming to be “passionate.”

My boyfriend loves me 

There are definitely extremes to EVERYTHING- sex, relationships, even with simple things like studying (ever heard of adderol to enhance your memorizing abilities).  Its important to be able to find a balance so you don’t scare your partner away like Mr. Slap Fetish scared me away.

SEXANDFESSENJOON@GMAIL.COM

FACEBOOK US

Awkwardly,

FARRAH فراه

You Down With G-O-D?

Joons,

When I went through rush (the process of becoming a sorostitude) they told us there were three things you don’t talk about: Booze, Boys, and Bible.  Well, guess what? Farrah and I have really outdone ourselves covering Boys and Booze (Check it out here). Time to talk Bible.

or more specifically, for me, Quran.

or Koran.

Whether you Q it or K it, if you’re Muslim, you gotta revere it. and if youre not, lucky you don’t have to follow all its rules– cause trust me, there’s a lot.

Now- I want to warn all my lovely joons that what I write about is my own experience, and by no means, am I trying to represent every Iranian Muslim girl of my generation. If anything, I want you guys to read, be entertained, laugh out loud at the expense of Saaghi, and then go about your day. CAPISCHE? COOL. I’m trying to avoid a Rushdie Fatwa here. Thanks.

I grew up with pretty religious Shi’ite parents. The practicing kind, the pray 3 times a day, fast, and attend mosque- kind. Islam felt as connected to my identity, as my Iranian heritage. Nowrouz was a traditional haft-seen ( I ain’t explaining that sorry) along with a prayer from the Quran.

When I was 5, I would dream about Prophet Mohammed and Imam Ali. I even made up this notion that some Imam was under our apartment. Morbid child, I know. but I was rather obsessed with the religious themes that surrounded me– the stories, the symbols, the Prophets, and of course, Allah/GOD.

Every child is scared of God, right? And every child attempts to picture God. For me, Allah was a very big black man (dont ask) and he meant business. His voice was thunderous and he watched from up in the clouds. My parents always told me that God sees and hears everything– even your thoughts– and this REALLY freaked my 5 year old self out.

Uh OH could God see that I ate candy before bedtime?

Or could he hear me thinking about stealing crayons from school?

Or see me making my Barbies kiss? 

The habit of questioning and monitoring my thoughts lasted well into my teenage years. Of course, when I was 13 I didn’t think God was a black guy and Muhammad a cloaked sidekick-ish figure–but I had Allah on the brain. I didn’t drink, I prayed like my parents, I went to Sunday School, learned Quranic Arabic, and even memorized part of it. I participated in a Quran Reciting competition– and I won bitches.

But fo real, my friends now would probably never recognize the young girl that I was.

So what changed? How’d I go from Sunday School prodigy to writing about Sex & Fessenjoon?  Nothing. Nothing changed and that was the problem. You see,

Islam failed me. Just as it is failing this new generation.

My religious leaders failed to update with the times, failed to accommodate modernity, and failed to live up to their promise of being learned. They lost me from the moment they stopped caring about understanding me as a believer, and instead just wanting to keep count.

The Islam I was presented with didn’t meet my needs, didn’t explain itself, and definitely did not rationally explain its rules and guidelines. By the time I was 15, I decided I was too intelligent to blindly follow something that didn’t even connect to me.

Sundays I’d be hearing my local akhoond (mullah) telling me (and other students) that listening to Music was bad, haraam. Then, during the week at school, listening to Eminem– I’d think, well, Marshall Mathers understands me more then God ever will. Listen, Quran, if you transcend time, why the HELL am I not understanding wtf you’re saying?

You could say that I was presented with an extreme version of Shi’ite Islam– prohibiting music, sex, alcohol, HALLOWEEN (I’m not kidding), and other aspects of life (especially Western life) that become inevitable. And my parents were quick to discourage the extremism, they just sent me to religious Sunday school for the sake of keeping some religion alive in their kids.

Yet, my Sunday school, and the ‘Islam’ around me isn’t unique. Its everywhere. It’s the standard.

The moderate Islam that we see being PR’ed today, the ALL-AMERICAN-MUSLIM – that’s the exception. And in fact, in some circles, that moderate Islam doesn’t even count– its a pick-and-choose-what-you-like form of religion. CAFETERIA MUSLIM.

I know Islam gets a bad rep nowadays, especially with assholes like Bin Laden, and by no means am I trying to continue the hate or Islamophobia here. I am not saying Islam is an oppressive religion.

I am saying that Shi’ite Islam is a religion that resembles an oligarchy. Distribution of information is in the hands of the few ‘learned’ men that study in Qom or Najaf. 

Its almost like the French Aristocracy– people starving in the streets, while Marie Antoinette tells them to eat Cake. These men, Grand Ayatollahs, who interpret the Quran (and basically set the rules for Shia Muslims) are  cut off from the reality of their followers. And the consequence of that?

Hypocrisy. 

Hypocrisy, something Iran

What I have seen my religion do to my peers, the young people in the West, is breed hypocrisy (which I think is the real gateway drug). and a massive amount of it. Let me explain how:

If you grow up with MTV and go to high school in the U.S., you’re going to know more about sex, drugs, and alcohol then your parents did. If you’re curious to try any of the above things– bad news>>Sorry about it guys, but here’s the deal. If you call yourself a Shi’ite Muslim and you drink Alcohol– that is a sin. If you have sex before marriage, it is a sin. If you want to attend your white friend’s pool party, and youre a boy or girl– you better be covering your ‘adornments’.

These are the rules as they are presented to us.

I don’t want to get into any philosophical debates on what the Quran and Muhammed really meant with the Hijab, or if Islam is really against alcohol. I’m looking at the facts of today–Shia Islam as it is practiced TODAY by the older generation, and TAUGHT to the younger generation.

What ends up happening is, we’re forced to choose or be hypocrites. For me, given my personality and personal curiosities– it came down to– you can either be a Muslim or you can live as you like. I have had countless friends decide they can have their cake and eat it too– Up in the clubs on friday, sitting quietly in the mosque on Saturdays. Active sex lives and pork-eating habits until Ramadan hits. But, where’s the truth in that? Is religion about faith or about following rules?

Unfortunately, I couldn’t do that. I didn’t want to scream during mourning for Imam Hussein that I LOVED SEX & LONG ISLAND ICED TEAS, but I couldn’t sit there and pretend that I was crying for an Imam who was slaughtered to save a religion I was basically defying and desecrating with my actions.

I couldn’t cheapen Islam, and I wouldnt practice it unless I could stay true to it.

Now you can turn around and tell me– that doesn’t have to be Shia Islam. Really? Find me a legitimate Shia cleric that will condone downing shots of Belvedere  and enjoying premarital sex, and I will dedicate all my Saturdays to the Mosque.

My problem with it isn’t that I’m not allowed to drink or have sex or wear miniskirts–thats just the surface– its that I don’t understand why I have to adopt certain lifestyle choices that a) were written centuries ago b) have NO bearing on my belief in GOD or ability to be a good person.

GUESS WHAT? I can give Zakaat, 10 percent of my income, to the less fortunate– tell the truth and take care not to hurt others or cheat them of anything EVEN if I get SHWAAASTED ON fridays.

and GUESS WHAT ELSE? I COULD also read my prayers (namaaz), fast for Ramadan, and memorize the Quran– AND STILL BE A SHITTY LYING CHEATING PERSON!

One has no bearing on the other, in my opinion.

Anyone Muslim reading this could feel differently– maybe you found harmony in your life between religion and reality, and I commend you for it. My beef is not with you who choose to be religious or practicing Muslims, my issue is with our so-called ‘leaders’.

Why do I have to pay for their failure? Religion is so highly connected with culture, but as a young Muslim in America I was forced to choose and this meant abandoning part of my identity because I wanted to deviate from the rules.

Now I’m no religious expert or theologist but after my teenage self felt so neglected by my religion, I decided to do a bit of research on the real story behind Islam. I’m not going to get into a ‘History Of Islam’ here, but let me just say– in my own way, I had to find peace with my religion. The answers I found are my own, and give me that sense of harmony.

Bismillah-ir-Rahmaneh–JUST KIDDING Joonies.

I’ve ranted long enough.

Bored? Am I an Infidel too?

Or want to tell me about your experiences with YOUR religion–whether its Islam, Baha’ism, Judaism, Christianity, Buddhism–etc!!! I really would love to know :)

FACEBOOK US

SEXANDFESSENJOON@GMAIL.COM

Ya Allah,

saaghi  ساقی

P.S. not to get repetitive but EVERYTHING ABOVE IS MY OWN OPINION. thanks.

Sometimes, I Wish I Was Black.

Whatup joonies,

You’re probably sick of all the MLK talk today–the tweets, the Facebook updates, the quotes–you’re probably thinking, dude every other day of the year, us Iroonis are so racist. (Don’t even try to deny those ridiculous comments your parents make)!

But we’re here to say, the new generation of Iranians are not racist. In fact, we’re in awe of black people. The awesomeness they’ve achieved in such a short time, especially given the obstacles they’ve had in their way. And no, we’re not talking about Kanye or Kobe– the music industry and the b-ball court isn’t the only place where they run sh!T.

Here’s our favorite influential people of African descent (we try to say PC– sometimes).

THE ACTIVIST:

HUEY NEWTON 

what a boss.

“I think what motivates people is not great hate, but great love for other people”

Dr. King, Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, the Little Rock Nine– we’ve heard all about these famous activists and there are even picture books about them.

Huey Newton was a different sort of activist, controversial and impossible to silence. A native of Oakland, he taught himself how to read after he graduated high school– he went on to get his PhD in Social Philosophy. Along with Bobby Seale, he co-founded the infamous Black Panther Party for Self Defense in 1966.

Sure, Dr. Huey Newton was jailed, tried, jailed again–(repeat) but it is hard to deny the mark that Huey, and his work, has left on the world of civil rights and urban activism.

ELLA BAKER

“give light and people will find their way”

Sometimes people forget about women in the Civil Rights movement.  But Ella Baker, was a true leader. She preferred working behind-the-scenes insisting that “strong people don’t need leaders”; and this had lasting effects because after MLK was assassinated, the Civil Rights Movement didn’t die. (“Martin didn’t make the movement, the Movement made Martin”)

Ella lent her voice to countless movements, beyond just civil rights, and we know if she were alive today– she’d help Iran out– FOR SURE. You’re a real woman, Ms. Baker!

THE ACTOR:

BILL COSBY

"It isn't a matter of black is beautiful as much as it is white is not all that's beautiful."

Most of us grew up watching The Cosby Show, which turned out to be the highest ranking sitcom OF ALL TIME– at a time where racism still played a dominant role in people’s perceptions of African Americans.  The Cosby Show broke stereotypes, it taught us (without us even realizing it) acceptance and compassion.

But Bill Cosby wasn’t just known for his hit sitcom.  He held a doctorate in education and encouraged African Americans to excel in more than just sports, fashion, and “acting hard.”

Bill Cosby played an integral role in our lives encouraging US to be more educated.  He was  also the most Persian Dad on TV for a while.

RUBY DEE

“The kind of beauty I want most is the hard-to-get kind that comes from within — strength, courage, dignity.”

Ruby Dee may have been before our time, but she played a significant role in defining the movement of African American culture.  She was the first African American woman to ever play lead roles at the American Shakespeare Festival.  She’s known for roles in A Raisin in the Sun and American Gangster.  

But of course… that’s not all.

Not only, was Ruby Dee a breast cancer survivor for over 30 years, but she was one of the many who supported MLK by marching alongside her peers in MLK’s march on Washington in 1963.  In 1970, she won the Federick Douglass Award for leadership toward equal opportunity.

Ruby Dee: a strong woman. An inspiration.

THE MUSICIAN:

JOHN LEGEND

The world won't get no better, we gotta change it

John Legend– DAMN. Smooth voice. Beautiful music. Well Educated. He just makes us want to Get Lifted. There really is not much else to say here, other than– John Legend makes us believe there is some hope left in the entertainment industry, beyond Miley Cyrus and Justin Bieber.

NINA SIMONE

You just have to listen to the above song. Soulful. It really makes you want to turn back time to the 60s, and march with Dr. King, doesnt it? Or at least, really makes you wish you were black.

THE ARTIST:

LANGSTON HUGHES

Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink and be in love”

Without Langston Hughes, there would be no Tupac, no Public Enemy, and definitely no Jay-Z. If you were lucky enough to read his poetry in school (and didn’t snooze), you already know how bomb Langston is, if not– pick up his Montage of a Dream Deferred and bask in its genius.

Langston was hiphop before it even existed.

BETYE SAAR

image

Now you might enjoy Aunt Jemima Waffles from your local grocery store, but Betye Saar’s work on stereotyped black figures (Aunt Jemima, Uncle Tom etc) is PHENOMENAL.

The liberation of Aunt Jemima, 1972

GOOGLE for more please.

THE POLITICIAN:

BARACK OBAMA

Did you really think we’d forget one of the most powerful men on the PLANET?! WHO IS BLACK!?

With infinite amounts of swag and critics, President Obama is definitely the culmination of centuries of activism. Say what you want about his policies and his views, but there is no denying that Barack Hussein Obama is a fuckin’ champion, a big EFF YOU to the KKK, and white supremacists out there.

And for that, even that alone, we love him.

"There is not a black America and white America and Latino America and Asian America — there is the United States of America"

xx,

The S&F team

Out-Eat Me Baby

Hey joonjoons,

I’m just gonna go right out and say it: I hate when guys don’t eat. I know some of you are probably reading that last sentence, confused… don’t eat?  How is that even possible?  But unfortunately, its true: there is a small percentage of the male population who can’t finish their damn plate.

I’ve stopped dating two guys because they barely ate anything.  

You only look like that if you EAT

 My experiences involve a series of incidents with two guys where we went out to eat… and about halfway through their plate, they put their hand on their “food baby” and said, “Ahh I’m so full.”  What?!?! THAT’S IT?! One guy ordered a SALAD with steak… and took the rest of it home.

Not a big deal?  Sure.  But when they can’t finish the damn one scoop of ice cream… THAT’S where I draw the line. Didn’t your mama ever teach you to finish your plate? There are starving children in third world countries and you’re going to toss out the rest of your ice cream?  Are you fucking kidding me?

I won’t deny it.  I LOVE to eat… especially if I’m at a nice restaurant that serves delicious food… I would like to FINISH my plate.  How can I do that when my date khodesho naz mikone (acts like a pussy) and refuses to take just one last bite.  Do I have to spoon feed you and pretend like the spoon is an airplane just to get your ass to open your damn mouth and take one last bite?

Even this kid can feed himself (or herself?)

Worried about your girlish figure?  Well order something healthy.  Don’t have a big appetite?  Well … that’s your problem.  Pick a place that only serves salads (although, I’d probably judge you for that too) or pick something to do OTHER than going out to eat.

I’m not saying you should go overboard and eat like a monster:

THIS is overboard

But what the fuck is going on?!!?! I like it when my man can finish his damn cheeseburger and still has room to finish whatever is left on my plate.  This doesn’t mean I like fatties…

Maybe its a dominance thing.  I really hate when I have to be the “man” in the relationship whether it has to do with the fact that they CRY, or if they can’t stand up to me.  So when it comes to eating: the one thing that men are usually good at, and they can’t do it?  Well, its a turnoff. If I’m finishing MY plate and you’re not finishing yours?  I’ll probably never want to eat with you again.

“Baby let’s share, I’m watching my girlish figure,” HE says

I really can’t explain what it is.  Its just weird to me having grown up around these boys that eat everything in sight… and then actually being a GROWN-UP and being surrounded “MEN” who can’t even finish their damn salad.  I’m sorry but, when you don’t eat… it makes me  feel self conscious that I am finishing MY steak (and would probably be down to finish yours too).  Guys hate on US when we order salad or just get a small appetizer at dinner, but sadly, they’re now becoming the “starving child” in the relationship.

I’ll just leave you with this:

Real men finish their food and finish YOURS if you can’t.  

So here’s to finishing our entire plate of fessenjoon… and dating real men ;)

SEXANDFESSENJOON@GMAIL.COM

FACEBOOK US

XOXO,

FARRAH فراه

If you’re not KOBE, you can sit this one out.

HELLLOOOO/salaaaam/bonjOUR to our lovely joooons,

I’m in a particularly good mood as you can see today. It’s rare, usually there’s something that sets me off – gets my ‘bitch mode activated‘. Anyway, there’s a new CONTACT US page, if you’re too lazy/scared/annoyedthatweevenask to email (sexandfessenjoon@gmail.com)! so gogogo and leave us some feedback. Farrah and I are all ears!

just for fun, my french boy crush: Adrien Gallo.

Now I have a concern for my own kind– the middle eastern woman. Since when were we such snooty bitches? and since when was THAT mistaken for confidence? EXCUSE ME— cocky is not confident, cocky is a projection of all your INSECURITIES & DADDY ISSUES.

Cocky doesn’t translate into ‘I’m the hottest bitch in the room’, ‘I’m a lionness here me roar’…Cocky translates over to : “I woke up this morning delusional, thinking I was Beyonce”

Now I know I said its coool to speak your mind, and I encouraged it (see here). & that’s not what I’m talking about– I’m writing about those girls that walk around the streets, the clubs, the malls as if they’ve just been dropped from the nose of an elephant (az damagh-e-feel – farsi proverb of the day). Girls with noses in the air, clutching their handbags, marching in their stilettos, and doling out DIRTY LOOKS. — now tell me that ain’t INSECURR?

As guys say, girls that think their sh!t don’t stink.

toddlers and tiaras. #smh

I have bad news, it does. & you thinking you’re better than other people only shows how inferior you really must feel.

I witnessed the following the other day:

As I stood in line for take-out, there were a couple Irooni girls a few people in front of me (just enough distance for saaghi the anthropologist – or creeper- to observe them). They were laughing, talking, gossiping whatever- until a guy sitting nearby decided to chat them up. It was unclear whether he was hitting on them or just killing time by being a social person.

a) I wanted to give him a MASS AMOUNT of credit for approaching girls while theyre in ‘wolf packs’ (that ain’t easy we know)

b) He was respectful, I know girls complain about all those sleazy creepers but he was not one.

image

Poor guy didn’t realize what he got himself into. The girls ripped him apart like wolves, to the point that I just felt bad. Even after he had stopped talking to them, they were still laughing, mocking, and just being plain disrespectful. Sure, you can call it mean girls– but it was more than that, these girls thought they had a right to just brush this guy off in any way they so chose.

I was so angry, I wanted to- all at the same time- comfort the poor dude, bitchslap the girls, take them off their stilettos & bring them back down to earth. 

Then I was relieved by this thought:

LIFE will do that.

Somewhere, between losing your virginity, falling in love, moving out, and getting a job- you will learn that there is nothing that makes you better than anyone else. No amount of money, looks, health, or family.

There are no ‘leagues’, ‘cliques’, and ‘ranks’ in the greater scheme of things. There’s only the reality of how you’ve treated the people around you.Like when you say ‘ugh he’s so out of my league’ or ‘I’m an 8, he’s a 4′– you only make yourself look stupid. When you look down on people is when you’re basically asking for life to humble you and smack the air of superiority out of your effing soul.

this is not real life.

As Iranians, or even Middle Easterners, we tend to inherit large egos and even bigger amounts of PRIDE– and I think that can be harnessed for good– towards your motivations, goals, aspirations, etc.  But when you keep it at a superficial level, you’re just going to stand still and look like a fool.

Now if I’ve gotten too philosophical and deep on you joonies, I apologize, let’s lighten this up by showing you how Life humbled a young Saaghi. I’ve realized my existence has been filled with way too many embarassing moments, and I haven’t shared enough of them with you. So here we go

My parents, as all persian parents do, signed me up for a few sports when I was young (some starting at five years old): Soccer, Swimming, Basketball, and Tennis. I definitely did not inherit some of the athletic talent my siblings have, and I was no super star but I was pretty good at Soccer (surprise). And this was because I was AGGRESSIVE (surprise again) and I had no problem elbowing, knocking down, kneeing, headbutting, injuring anyone. My soccer coach sent me into the field because I was the human bulldozer. (Wow, I’m making myself sound very attractive to you joonies aren’t I?) & he sent me in, for every game.

When it came to BASKETBALL, it was a very different story. I don’t know what it is about the sport– i am just NOT GOOD. Actually, I suck. I mean, I can play some one-on-one and survive, but a game with teams– my ADD kicks in and I have no idea what side of the court I should be on. Hands in the air at the same time for defense? Yeah, that just means I look like a confused weirdo doing jumping jacks at the half court line.

LECHOKE.

ANYWAY, my parents would come to the games, and I realllyyyy  wanted to show off for them. Especially my dad who was still yelling “HUST-ELE” from the sidelines (click here for the full story). Of course, my coach knew I sucked– my teammates knew I sucked– but I, big egoed bulldozer saaghi, still felt like there had to be someone who sucked more than me. & of course I decided it was the girl who hadn’t shed her baby fat yet. (WHY AM I SUCH A BITCH!?) I insisted Coach put me in the games, insisting I had more KOBE in me than her. Turns out, that wasn’t true– one game, as I awkwardly let the other team consistently score while trampling over me, my coach took me out and said:

“Saaghi,You can sit this one out.”

and then I sat every game out, as baby fat KOBE played, scored, and got some glory. My basketball skills became the running joke of my family (still is).

It may seem like a mild story, but guess what– I ate shit on the court a few times, which made me EAT MY WORDS, and kill my ego. Baby fat Kobe was gonna play and I was gonna STOP FRONTIN’ THAT I WAS KOBE/JORDAN/ALLEN/SHAQ– and SIT IT OUT.

I’ll leave you with this joons, and it’s not jesus’ golden rule (although that’d apply here)>>

True Swagged out bitches know they’re just as flawed as the rest of the world. & they don’t front.SO kick off the pedestal you put yourself on, and take a new look around you.

Sh!t looks different from ground level, huh?

FACEBOOK US

sexandfessenjoon@gmail.com

The Persian Bulldozer,

saaghi  ساقی

Shave my back, I’ll shave yours

Heyy joonies, we have a special treat for you tonight.  The one and only DoozyFab: our guest post this month!  DoozyFab is not only hilarious, but really knows how to keep it real and at SEXANDFESSENJOON, we are all about honesty.  If you want to check out more of her writing, click here.   For now, sit back and enjoy (boys, this is all for YOU– unfortunately, we Persian girls have a little TOO much experience with “derakhts”):

Imagine this:

The hottest persian guy just asked you out on a date. He picks you up in his black Benz (or BMW) and whisks you off to a romantic restaurant in the hilltops of the Beverly Hills mountains overlooking the city. After some wining, dining, and amazing conversation he drives you home. You feel an incredible connection and feel like you’ve known him “forever.” You invite him in and you both just can’t control yourselves. The chemistry is undeniable and then you unbutton his shirt and there it is:

The tree of life. The derakht that grows on him. ALL THAT PERSIAN HAIR. The Persian carpet or whatever you want to call it, is staring you back in the face.

WHAT A #DEALBREAKER.

Picture-6-215x3001.png

please take that sweater off…

Badbakht looks like he is still wearing a SWEATER.

It’s a pretty awkward situation to be in, especially since you are totally not feelin’ it anymore and you’re just trying to find an excuse to get the HELL OUT.

Persians must be educated about their HAIR.

MY STORY:

A long, long time ago in a faraway land…with no Persians to witness my pain (I say that with love). I was with a guy I was really into. We had hooked up before, but one time he forgot to trim…not only his chest, but his whole body.

When you are really into someone, things like that don’t usually turn you off. Until one night…

We were kissing and as I begin to kiss his chest, ALL I could feel was the bristly hair against my face. This literally made my face turn red (his damn scruff scratched the crap out of me). It felt like my microdermabrasion went to waste. UGH. It was just getting in the way of everything (kind of like how dirty dishes can ruin a friendship between two roomies)!

Feeling that bristly hair on my face was not only irritating my last facial from an expensive dermo, but the tips of the hairs would graze my mouth (Ughhhhhhh). I admit it though, in the beginning I acted like I didn’t care, but after a while I literally just stopped and changed the subject and actually thought about getting him a trimmer for Christmas (no you can NEVER ever get a guy a trimmer for Christmas that’s just rude and insulting)

Guys have egos so women need to figure out ways to gently ease them into how much hair is appropriate.

ego-300x229.jpg

There you go

Obviously, you can always be sneaky and pretend like you are taking him to your waxing lady or eyebrow threader because YOU need something done and then con his ass into the seat… FREE OF CHARGE.

Permanent-Hair-Removal-For-Men-300x185.jpg

The pain is worth it in the end

Now if you don’t want to go to sneaky extremes there are alternatives and guys know this too:

DO’s:

- Trim, but not to the point where you look like a bare baby. It’s still part of you masculinity and is sexy to many woman.

- Clean up those eyebrows. No one wants to take pictures of someone with caterpillar brows.

unibrow-300x240.png

Enough said

- If it is soo bad that if you even trim a little, it grows back stronger than Hulk Hogan trust the laser beam (it will barely hurt after a little numbing cream).

- Invest in a trimmer (beard & body). Painless and easy.

DO NOT’s:

- Shave until you look like a Mexican hairless cat.

orig-176x300.jpg

No one wants to take this home

- Copy your friends. Everyone’s hair is different so do what works for you.

- Let it grow until you look like you are wearing a sweater (you might think its hairy but we don’t want to have to “moomak” wax your ass before we make out with you).

Maybe some people like that coarse, dark, Persian hair on their cheeks when they’re trying to cuddle (hopefully it doesn’t smell like kabob). But for most people…. having a partner who takes care of themselves is way more desirable.

It’s Persian Hygiene 101.

Trim a little. Your chest, arms, nose, ears, pubes, toes, palms…no one wants to hook up with someone who looks like they’re wearing a sasquatch costume.

sasquatch-190x3001.jpg

Keep it clean please

One slice of pizza… hold the hair!

You know how you (hopefully) send your food back at a restaurant if you find a hair in it? Well, I like to order my plates (and men) clean, FRESH with minimal hair. I’m not saying be bald or bare…just manscape a little (please… and we promise to do the same). Do not let your hair grow to the point where a woman wants to send it back like she just found a black hair in her nachos…GROSS.

Remember these tips and know that saving the rainforest only refers to things that grow out of the ground…not on your body ;)

SEXANDFESSENJOON@GMAIL.COM

FACEBOOK US

FABulously yours,

DoozyFAB دوزی فب

http://doozyfab.com/

%d bloggers like this: