Metro (Gel) Sexual

I love my MetroGel, truly I do. With a passion uncontested.

Back in the days before I gave in and admitted that I have rosacea, I struggled along trying to convince myself that redness "it's just acne" ('cept it wasn't) or "this new foundation covers this right up" ('cept it didn't). I tried herbal remedies, various and sundry products from Estee Lauder, Mary Kay, but none of those helped a damn bit.

Then one particularly bitchy doc who was supposed to be seeing me as a new patient for my pcos suggested the MetroGel. This doc was so bitchy, I almost hate to give her credit for the MetroGel suggesting (as I do love it so), but she really did suggest it. She must've been having a rare moment of clarity or something.

So I tried it (that fact is surprising, given that I completely disregarded all other assvice given by aforementioned bitch doctor).

And now I love MetroGel, and want to kiss it, and hug it, and call it my very own, and have it's babies, and we'll be married, and never be apart, and and and . . .

And now I have nice smooth skin. Well, except for during my pregnancy when I stopped using the MetroGel because I wanted C to have a chemical free amniotic life. But I longingly caressed the MetroGel tube every day during my pregnancy, dreaming of the day we'd be reunited at last. And now we finally are. Sweet blessed Jesus gay, now we are.

No one can ever take you away from me, MetroGel. We're together forever (said in creepy, stalker-like tone).