(model used is above the age of 18 and a consenting and very much willing partner)

now to dispel all the myth behind micropore, this is what this shit is about.

judging from the comments from the previous post, nobody seems to know what micropore is. which is actually quite tragic. i'm a firm believer that every single person in Singapore has prolly seen micropore somewhere, some time in their life. it could be at the hospital, the home, the pharmacy, the one-ninety-nine shop, some BDSM club or somewhere. the practicality of the micropore tape is so varied and so imaginative. you only need to release your inner inhibitions and let your thoughts run wild. and when i say wild, i mean that in a wild-and-dirty-kinda way.

i vividly remember my paternal grandmother during my childhood days (and she's still alive and kicking okay, though i hope not kicking the bucket anytime soon yet). my family used to stay together with the grandma and the father's sister's family. it was cramped quarters and boy, was i was really living in the heartlands. there were domestic fights, malay weddings, wierd curry smells emanating from various parts of the house, a mamak shop downstairs selling tabacco leaves and chewing gum, and of course prank calls to the police. my grandmother had her own room with the grandfather. it was purple, kinda like the same colour as King's yam ice-cream. so that actually makes it lavender instead right? damn embarassing if i dunno, cos i'm gay and i should.

and one of the things i remember vividly about my childhood (and this is really wierd) would always be my grandmother squatting on the floor using micropore to stick up the stray hairs that falls after she combs through her majestic mane. and not to boast, but my grandmother is quite chio for her age (65 if i'm not wrong). she has this face that speaks of love and the heartlands and of course a life of malay weddings, curry odours and 999 prank calls. and she has A LOT OF HAIR. like she can afford to drop hair everyday and still look like a Pantene model.

walking into her bedroom, you would always be greeted with the sight of hair on the floor. sometimes they cluster together and form their own clumps and start rolling about when the air-con blows. a bit like a scene out of a western (cue the cowboy music). so imagine her sticking that massive amount of hair onto just a teeny-weeny bit of micropore. she loves to scare the shit out of me by flashing the many twangs of hair stuck onto the micropore.

maybe that's where i got that fear of chee byes from.

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