It’s Your Vagina But Could I Make One Suggestion?
“Where are you headed?” I asked my wife as she searched for her keys, cellphone and purse.
“I have a waxing appointment,” She said frustrated that all her possessions seemed to have disappeared. “You didn’t hide them did you?” She asked.
“No of course not. But I think I saw some of your things in that cabinet.” I said as I waved towards a cabinet where she never puts her things.
“Of course not,” she muttered grabbing her things.
“Hey, go easy on the um… You know. Have your waxing lady, or is it waxing person? Have her uh, take it easy down there. Just a little off the top.” I said smiling.
“I’ll be back in an hour” she said flatly.
“I was kidding,” I yelled after her. “Do whatever you like down there! It’s your (I rarely yell about my wife’s vagina while she’s backing out of the driveway) vagina!”
I guess it was at some point in the early 90’s when I first noticed women’s pubic hair starting to recede. It didn’t happen overnight; it happened inch by inch. First the sculpted triangle, then the landing strip. By the late 90’s, it was gone; plundered and savaged by razors, wax and lasers. Now… Now the naked vulva is en vogue. Ladies, I have to ask, what happened to the full-bodied bush I fell in love with?
I’m quite possibly dipping a toe into the misogyny pool here and to be honest I don’t even know if I’m allowed to have an opinion on this… But here it goes, I think a full bush on a woman is beautiful. Yeah, I said it. I think it’s beautiful, moreover, I think it’s sexy. I also think a full bush provides mystery. Sexy mystery. A bald vagina has no mystery. It’s just there. Chilling out. Nothing to hide. No secrets to keep.
I think I was around eleven or twelve-years-old when I saw my first vagina. It was a big deal. It belonged to the actress Barbara Carrera, who bared all in the crappy 80’s movie I, The Jury with Armand Assante. Her vagina is my first recollection of naked femininity. For years, I compared all versions of femininity to the actress Barbara Carrera. The scene I remember (fondly) has Ms. Carrera lying on her side completely nude. Well, not completely nude. She had a hairy vajayay. That’s what I remember most about my first peek at a vagina–a full bush. This was not a landing strip. It was not a carefully sculpted triangle. This was full on labia majora muff.
I know what you’re thinking, “How childish–a grown man basing his ideas of femininity on a movie he saw as a kid. Great… But in the real world we ladies do what we want with our vaginas.” Yes, that’s great! You should do what you like with your vaginas and your pubic hair. But… and I’m sorry to ask, is that true? Is your hair preference yours and yours alone? Were you not influenced by your husband, boyfriend, Glamour magazine, women from the gym, your gynecologist? Is your bush really yours to do with as you please? I also must ask (because I’m nosey) what was it that pushed women to trim, shave, wax and laser off their hair to begin with? Society? Style trends? The demand to be perfect? Because I’ll be honest, it appears to me that for some reason, women have picked up the desire and demand for perfection where men left off. If you pay attention, you’ll notice women shaming each other. Women proliferate these demands by demeaning each other for their bad eyebrows, muffin tops and yes, their lack of grooming down there.
Like most men, I’m far from perfect. Really, really far from perfect. So why would I expect a woman to be perfect? How on earth could I expect my wife to appease my ideas of beauty and my proclivity for a full bush when I fall so short of perfection? Though I’ve suggested my wife go au’ natural, she prefers it tidy. Actually there have been numerous times when my wife has gone in for a wax and come back with her pubic hair completely MIA. They call it a Brazilian. I call it a spoiler alert. But it’s her body and it’s her decision. I’ve learned over my lifetime that we don’t always get the woohoo we want, but we do get the woohoo we deserve. So to my wife, okay, if it’s for you. If it’s what makes you feel good, get the Telly Savalas. Get the landing strip. Vajazzle it… Just be happy and rock your vajayjay the way you want. You, not Self magazine’s, not The Real Housewives, The Kardashians or anyone else. Rock it the way you like.
Okay all you Kojacks, I wouldn’t feel right if I left it at that. There are reasons we are born with pubic hair. It’s not exactly my job (or right) to convince you of that but I’m going to try anyway. I could bore you with the science, facts and quotes from doctors and experts regarding the importance of pubic hair but I actually have none of those. However I did once read a Cameron Diaz interview that stated she was in favor of pubic hair. I believe in Ms. Diaz and I believe in pubic hair.
To extend this thought a little further, I’d also like to point out that your map of Tasmania serves more than biological and physiological purposes. It’s objet d’art. Get it? A naked vagina is boring. Well, not boring, there’s no such thing as a jejune vagina, but you get where I’m going with this right? Look at a man’s chest, he has nipples. The nipples don’t really serve a purpose right? Wrong, they do serve a purpose. They are like architectural details or the texture in a painting. How boring would a man’s chest be without nipples? It would be just a lumpy area above the abdomen.
Look at the artists–Michelangelo painstakingly carved nipples onto David. He didn’t have to but he did. Would David be as beautiful without his nipples? I doubt it. Would Frank Lloyd Wright have designed a 70’s ranch house? No, because he loved beauty and he found beauty in the details. A woman is all details… When a woman’s hips hug her inner thighs showing nothing more than a brilliant flash of pubic hair… Those are the details that enter an artist’s mind. Probably. Well, it certainly enters my mind a lot.
If that’s not enough to keep you from shaving your southern curly-locks I’m gonna let you in on a secret. We (men, society, your ex-boyfriend) have pulled a fast one on you. We’ve shammed and shamed you for centuries. We’ve somehow convinced you to shoot botulism into your forehead, pour hot wax on your legs and vagina, to bleach your teeth and straighten your hair all for the sake of our idea of beauty. Meanwhile your man is probably sporting at least one or more of the following:
A 30-year-old guy with a gut, thinning hair, back acne and gross feet is lucky just to get a woman’s attention let alone place demands on her pudendum. If a man isn’t doing everything in his power to make things more hospitable and welcoming in his own yard, he has no business telling you to shave your pubic hair.
I realize how conflicted this all sounds. Ultimately I think women should do what makes them happy. Personally though, I like a hairy vajayjay. It’s a tough spot to be in but I believe strongly in a woman’s right to choose–to choose what she does with her bush. Yes, some women prefer shaving or removing their pubic hair altogether and that’s great. If it makes YOU happy, do it. But please remember when it’s time to evaluate your vulva, there’s nothing sexier than a woman who controls her destiny… and what she does with her pubic hair. And pubic hair.
(image courtesy of http://www.welovefine.com/i-am-chewie-hoodie-9493.html where the fabulous furry hoodie can be bought…thereby minimizing the visual gasp effect of your hairy bush when worn sans underwear.)