Okay, that’s it. This blog has waited long enough. It’s time. Time to talk about body hair. I’m not going to go all super girly on you, or all super butch. I’m just going to put it out there because frankly, tending to it is a near daily part of a woman’s life – unless you’re a hippie and more power to you. Just please don’t dance around me, pit hair swaying as you spin to the Grateful Dead.
Here’s how it goes. The first time a young woman shaves her legs, the change is almost indescribable. That was my experience anyway. I completely remember taking all that leg hair off in the bathroom sink one summer up at my cottage, and rubbing my hand along the smooth skin beneath. It was crazy weird. I could hardly believe the legs were mine. I was hooked. That’s not to say upkeep hasn’t become a pain in the ass, but smooth legs over hairy legs is the only way I roll.
Armpits, not so exciting. I haven’t a clue when I began shaving them. All I remember is being concerned with the logistics. Okay, how do I run a razor down here without stripping my skin off into fine ribbons? I’ve obviously been doing something right because I have never yet bled out.
I’ve been fortunate not to be cursed with a woman ‘stache. I know some ladies have to go for a regular wax to keep that thing at bay. Considering how much I loathe having to get the eyebrows done, I can’t imagine the agony of having upper lip hair regularly ripped off of my body. If I grow some when I’m 60+ I’ve already decided that I’m going to ignore it, other than try to keep it as food-free as possible.
Arm hair is a weird one. I think there are women that actually wax it regularly. I don’t like men enough to bother. Screw that.
Down to the the good stuff. I’m going to come clean, Helen, and reveal to you and the rest of the blogging world that I’ve never done it. Nope, I’ve never gotten a bikini wax. You might want to tell me that I don’t know what I’m missing. In my mind, ignorance is bliss. I take care of it. I’m adept at using a 5-blade. I haven’t cut into anything major down there. I just can’t get excited about sitting with another lady while she hot butters me up and then rips the shit out of my tender bits. I wouldn’t ever do it to someone else so why the hell am I going to pay someone to do it to me?
None of the guys I’ve been with seem to give a crap. Nobody has stopped mid stride and said, hey, about your unwaxed pubes. I think they’re just thrilled that I don’t have a mustache full of the “hoping to get lucky later” dinner they bought and crusty old pit hair. And we ladies don’t size each other up on vaginas in the shower room (am I right on that ladies?), so I’m going to go ahead and say that mine is superb. Totally worth the trip, regardless of whether what’s around it is waxed, shaved or full bodied.
Reviewing the maintenance list above, I could get into the whole debate about how unfair it is that women are expected to shave/wax and men just walk around hairy, sweaty, a little nasty and with permission to have their shirts off* to boot. Aside from the complete unfairness of the shirt thing, I’m actually okay with this societal distinction of hair vs. no hair between the sexes. I like being all smooth and getting lotioned up. Keeps my cougar bod in check and it actually feels pretty good.
*Men, if you have ripped abs, I would be willing to reconsider my staunch position on the shirt thing. Send pictures.