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The original was posted on /r/tifu by /u/throwaway_burnt_beef on 2026-05-07 06:38:06+00:00.

Using a throwaway for reasons that will become very obvious very quickly.

This story begins at my college graduation. Me and my friends (all girls) have a very crass sense of humor, and somehow we ended up on the topic of all the horrendously naughty things we’d do to celebrate our official entry into the grown adult world. One of my friends joked about wanting to be smoother than a dolphin’s ass before we went out to the bars that night, and that got me thinking, then googling. I realized very quickly that a brazilian wax would cost a pretty penny that my fresh-out-of-college-and-unemployed self didn’t have, and that’s when I came across a Reddit post about the best hair removal creams on the market. That leads us to today’s fuck-up.

A few hours later while on my biweekly grocery store trip, I remembered that conversation with my friends and my subsequent discovery of that Reddit post. Out of curiosity, I made my way to the personal care aisle and perused the wide array of hair removal creams on the shelf. I made my selection and went on my merry way, blissfully unaware of the hell I was in for.

At home, I went about my usual routine to prep for a night out. I showered, exfoliated, washed my hair, and was about to reach for my razor, when I remembered the little pink bottle I had just stored in my cabinet. Giddy and eager to try out my new at-home grooming hack, I pulled it out and skimmed through the instructions. This was my first mistake.

The label said to leave the cream on for 6 minutes at most, so that obviously means set a timer for 6 minutes and wash it off then, right? It also read “suitable for bikini area,” so obviously it’s totally fine to slather it absolutely everywhere, right? Right?

I applied the cream, set my timer, and continued on with my shower routine, completely ignorant to the hellish torment I had just unleashed upon my nether regions. At first, I didn’t feel anything except an odd, if slightly unpleasant cooling sensation in my lady bits. I figured that was just the cream working its magic and thought nothing of it. That was my second and most fatal mistake. The timer went off, I washed off the cream, and most of my hair off with it. I was absolutely delighted. As I got dressed, I did notice slight sensitivity down there, but I, again, thought nothing of it as I continued getting ready.

I proceeded to have an absolute blast with my friends, taking shots and letting guys buy me drinks and enjoying my status as a recent graduate. Eventually though, the substantial amount of drinks I had caught up with me and I had to hit the ladies’ for a quick pee. I bade goodbye to the very sweet guy I’d been talking to, them staggered into a stall and collapsed onto the toilet with a big, dozy smile on my drunk face. That vanished almost instantly as the stream began.

With it came the most agonizing burning sensation I have ever felt in my life. The pain I felt is easily comparable to taking a potato peeler to my lady bits and seasoning them with salt and freshly ground black pepper, then proceeding to pan-fry them until well-done. I immediately shot up off the toilet, glaring at it as if it had personally wronged me. I wondered for a moment if I had accidentally sat on a radiator at some point in the night. Then I remembered. The hair removal cream.

At that point it was too late, and I desperately had to pee. After an awkward ten minutes of trying as hard as possible to achieve laminar flow with my pee and failing fantastically, I wobbled back to the bar to make my excuses to the poor guy I’d just left standing with my drink.

Cut to a few hours later, me and that guy are back at my apartment, and I don’t think I need to explain what we were doing. Things were happening, vibes were flowing, when it comes time for the main event. Things go wrong at first contact. Immediately my bits catch fire, and I recoil from him instantly. My heart drops as I realize I won’t be able to have sex with this beautiful man, all because I decided to take a test run of gonorrhea symptoms.

I awkwardly make up some excuse to get him out of my apartment and proceed to spend the next hour slathering my bits in aloe vera gel and sitting on an ice pack, my blue balls hurting about as much as both my ego and my lady bits.

TL;DR, I gave myself a chemical burn on my lady bits with hair removal cream, and will be wary of anything coming near, in, or out of my downstairs area for the foreseeable future. As they say, curiosity killed the cat.