Okay ladies, let’s talk about hair. You know, the hair down there.
When I went back out on the dating scene about five years ago I discovered there was a demand that women be bare. It didn’t really matter if you shaved, waxed or plucked. Men on the dating scene really, really hated pubic hair on the ladies. [They, of course, did very little personal grooming but god help you if you had pubes.]
So, like many women I got rid of mine. I had let them come back in a bit after my divorce and when I wasn’t dating because it was easier. But, like setting up your online dating profile and buying more dresses and heels, getting rid of pubes was part and parcel to going back out of the dating scene.
Honestly, I don’t mind getting rid of the hair most of the time. I get a few ingrown hairs every now and then but for the most part, baring it all down there isn’t a huge issue for me. Additionally, as someone who performs in burlesque, well… being bare goes along with the profession in general.
So when my guy told me he liked pubes neatly trimmed but not gone, I was shocked. Honestly after watching porn and seeing women in fashion magazines and all the gossip rags, I didn’t realize that men my age would want any hair down there. It wasn’t a command on his part. But I am subby by nature and grooming to his preference is something I want to do.
So now, my bits are a neatly hedged bush. It feels kind of rebellious, very intimate, and very claimed. Here’s why.
We are in a “hair is bad” phase of our culture. Women are expected to be perfectly hairless below their eyebrows. No leg hair, arm hair, underarm hair, pubes or toe hair. According to Plucked: A History of Hair Removal the average American woman who shaves will spend over $10,000 and two full months of her life removing hair. Women who wax will spend more than $23,000 in a lifetime.
Feminists have long rebelled by growing out their armpit hair and leg hair. Those are visible protests to the cultural norms. I still shave my legs and pits, mostly because when it grown it the hair itches, catches on clothing and other annoying things. Growing in my pubic area is my own quiet rebellion. I don’t have to broadcast that I hate culturally imposed standards of beauty. I just don’t follow them.
Intimate and Claimed
Let’s face it. In the dating world, nothing says, “I am not here for you and your pleasure,” like rocking a bush. In this day and age, having pubic hair is a pretty clear indication that you are not committed to the dating scene. You are not the average girl on Tindr or OKCupid or any of those sites. You are not preparing the tarmac for a landing of someone’s unknown plane.
Second, I did this for my guy. There is something special about knowing that this lawn was grown just for him. This is his turf (literally). This is what he wanted on his house. He owns this body and this is his. I tend to the garden for him.
I will be honest, it took me a minute to get use to the idea that I could give up my weekly depilation routine. I have absorbed the cultural programming that men don’t want hair there. That having pubic hair is someone antiquated and unfashionable. It is something akin to ’70s bell bottoms and thin-wale cords.
I also was a little worried about the grey. I am 90 percent grey up top. I haven’t seen my own pubes in five years so I wasn’t sure if they now matched the drapes. So, I did a very close up selfie and inspected it. Luckily, the grown is still nice and dark. Which I am good with because, in my mind Grey Bush should be a Jack London character and not something I bump uglies with. But that is my personal hang up.
So, go pubes!