I've been shaving my nether regions since the first sight of pubic hair at fourteen and have never experienced a full bush. Ever. That is until my last pregnancy when I couldn't reach or see the southern tip of my torso, thus leading to hair in places I'd never experienced. Luckily I couldn't see what was going on down there so it didn't bother me so much. Even in the mirror my belly covered my downunda and Hal didn't say anything, probably because we were newly dating (eight months) and were still loving on every idiosyncrasy. Or maybe he was just being nice.
This time around, we're
mean to each other a lot more comfortable with one another so the other night when I stripped down to nothing, Hal promptly called me out.
"Nice bush, Bec."
"Shut up. Really, omigawd!?"
I ran out of the room, plucked my MAC compact from my makeup bag and went to see for myself. Sure enough, there it was: a hairy downsouth. I almost fainted. Something had to be done. Like, now.
I do realize that hairless vagoos are somewhat controversial around these parts. Many women believe in the power of "the bush" and that's all fine and cool with me. My inability to deal with pubic hair has more to do with the fact I've never had any, not because I want to look like a pre-pubescent or a pornstar.
Growing up my friends and I all shaved our pubes, and not because "boys wanted us to." It was a harmless bonding experience: Sisterhood of the No-pubes-in-our-pants. And as far as I know, none of us ever grew them out again. For me it has always been very comfortable. I shave when I shave my legs and have never dealt with the red-bumps because I'm *usually* very regular with the razor.
Trying to shave ones "south" is no easy task when you have a basketball hanging over your bikini line. I'm not going into details re: how I managed to pull off a quick vagishave. Let's just say, I needed a little assistance and A LOT of bandaids.
Needless to say, anti-bush pregnant woman might want to take a different approach to their pubic region. (Like, say, dishing out the $40 bucks for a Brazilian.)
Meanwhile, I have an Elmo bandaid in my ass-crack.
And in other news: My wish to give our baby two middle-names was blown to smithereens by Hal and a little something we married folk like to call "compromise."After weeks of negotiations we have settled on ONE middle-name for our babe.