When we are in need of certain information, the first thing we turn to is the Internet. Unlike many years ago when people went straight to the library to seek knowledge, now that knowledge is just a click away.
Among the countless websites, there are those that deal with threads where people ask questions, and honestly, nettizens never disappoint.
Recently, someone posted a question eager to learn why their underwear appears to have bleach stains on it sometimes. Well, it turned out that many ladies wanted to know the answer to the question, realizing they are not alone and that many others have experienced this “issue.”
As always, many were quick to provide answers. It turned out that it is the vagina’s natural pH levels that really produce these “bleach” spots.
According to experts, this isn’t a reason for concern. On the contrary, it is an indicator that your pH levels, which indicate how acidic or alkaline a liquid or a substance is, are normal.
“Now that everyone is aware, it’s completely normal to discover lighter patches in a woman’s underwear or knickers due to the acidic nature of the vagina, with a pH range of 3.8-4.5. So, I suppose it’s time to abandon the notion of it being a result of poor hygiene. In fact, a healthy vagina is one that can bleach the fabric,” Dr. Vanessa MacKay of the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists stated.
She explained that the vagina has a natural secretory system that allows it to clean itself. It is protected by the good bacteria that it contains.
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The National Institutes of Health states that the pH of the vagina typically fluctuates from 3.8 to 5.0, which means that it is rather acidic compared to the normally neutral pH level of 7.
“Disturbing the natural balance can lead to infections, but it’s perfectly normal and healthy for women to have clear or white discharge from their vagina,” Dr. MacKay added.
If you were among those wondering what is the reason behind these stains now you can rest at ease.
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MY LITTLE DAUGHTER ANSWERED MY HUSBAND’S PHONE AND FORGOT TO HANG UP — THEN I OVERHEARD A WOMAN’S VOICE SAYING “DADDY AND I HAVE LOTS OF SECRETS”
The phone, still open on the counter, lay lifeless in my hand. Lisa, oblivious to the gravity of the situation, was humming a tune and playing with her dolls. But I was frozen, my blood running cold. The woman’s voice, smooth and amused, echoed in my ears, a chilling reminder of a betrayal I couldn’t comprehend. “Daddy and I have lots of secrets.”
My heart pounded against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the sudden silence in the house. What did it mean? Was Mark cheating on me? Was this some sort of game? Or was it something more sinister?
I glanced at the clock. 8:30 PM. He had said he’d be home by 7:00.
A wave of anger washed over me, quickly followed by a chilling fear. I had to know. I had to find out the truth.
Grabbing my keys, I slipped out of the house, my movements silent and swift. I followed his usual route, my eyes scanning the dimly lit streets, my heart pounding with a mixture of dread and determination.
I found him at “The Velvet Lounge,” a dimly lit jazz club I had never heard him mention before. He was sitting at a small table in the corner, his arm draped possessively around the woman’s shoulders. They were laughing, their faces close together, their bodies radiating an intimacy that made my blood run cold.
The woman, even more beautiful in person than her voice had suggested, turned her head as I entered the club. Her eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed with a mixture of amusement and contempt. Mark, his face flushed, looked up at me, his smile faltering.
“Sarah,” he stammered, “what are you doing here?”
“I came to find out what ‘secrets’ you and your… friend have been keeping from me,” I said, my voice steady despite the tremor running through it.
The woman, finally speaking, let out a low, melodious laugh. “Secrets? Darling, I think you’ve misunderstood. We’re just… friends. Old friends.”
“Old friends who meet in dimly lit jazz clubs and whisper secrets into each other’s ears?” I retorted, my voice rising.
Mark tried to intervene, but I cut him off. “Don’t bother, Mark. I heard it all. I heard her say, ‘Daddy and I have lots of secrets.'”
His face paled. “It was just a… a joke.”
“A joke that made my daughter feel uncomfortable?” I asked, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “A joke that made me question everything I thought I knew about you?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
I turned and walked out, the sound of their hushed conversation fading behind me. The air outside was thick with the scent of rain and betrayal. My world, once filled with love and security, had shattered into a million pieces. As I drove home, the image of Mark and the other woman, their faces close together, their laughter echoing in the night, haunted me.
The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Lisa’s laughter. She was playing with her toys, oblivious to the storm that had erupted in our lives the night before. Looking at her innocent face, I knew I had to be strong. I had to protect her, to shield her from the pain and betrayal I was experiencing.
I would find a way to move on, to rebuild my life, to find happiness again. But the trust I had placed in my husband, the foundation of our marriage, had been irrevocably broken.
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