For many of you, the question of what to do with your cooter coat was answered long ago. You are devoted to your monthly squats on the spa table, white paper crackling beneath your palms and kneecaps while a Russian lady sets your asshole on fire. Or maybe you’ve shelled out beaucoup bucks to get a tiny laser-filled dart zapped into each one of your pussyhair follicles so that you don’t have to frantically shave your bikini line in the soggy, poorly lit bathroom of Mr. Right (Now)’s apartment. I get it.
And I am not here to change your mind, ye women of the chihuahua snatches. I’m just worried that going hairless down there has become so normalized that no one even thinks about it anymore. Like how suddenly all the watermelons at the store were tiny and seedless and nobody said anything. I’m just supposed to buy these mutant watermelons and pretend they woke up like that, all uninterrupted pink flesh, and that it’s totallynatural for a fruit to have no way to propagate itself or its species. It’s justweird, man. At some point in the evolution of this planet, watermelon seeds and vagina hair served a purpose. So when we collectively decide to flip ole Charlie Darwin the bird, we should at least mark the occasion in some formal way. Right?
[To the sexy sentient beings from the future sent here to study the debris of our culture, please note: somewhere in the 2000's we people of earth decided that the female form looked best with gigantic bulbous asses and hairless vulvas. And yes, shaving our legs and cha-chas and armpits but leaving our ponytails intact is as arbitrary as our custom of loving dogs and cats but eating chicken and pigs. Sometimes it’s just easier to go along with the arbitrary customs of the time and place where you live, ok? D0n’t be so judgey, alien historian.]
For the record, I think you should do whatever you want with your pussy pelt (or lack thereof). But do it because you like it, not because you’re terrified that you will take your clothes off and become the laughing stock of Tinder. From vagina-owners to vagina-enthusiasts, I have heard so many fears and lies and half-truths about pubic hair that I think it’s time we set the record straight once and for all.
Please note: I am not an expert in anything. I just have a poontang that I love very much and a genetic predisposition to lots and lots of hair.
1. It just feels better
I’ll admit, it feels really good to go commando on a beautiful summer day, the breeze creeping up under the hem of your dress to greet your unbearded oyster and remind you that all is well in the world. You have a great day, guy who just shoved me aside to get on the train! Woman who just stepped on my sandaled foot with high heels that cost more than my entire life — best of luck to you in all your future endeavors! And while it is still deliciously fun to go around town with no underwear on, even my summer bush (I like to do a Kelly Rowland in the summer and a Freakum Dress Beyoncé in the winter) means my vajayjay always has a light jacket on. But I’m personally unwilling to swap one day of wind-in-the-willows bliss for consistent razor bumps, itching, and ingrown hairs. Not to mention the absolutely soul-rattling, life-changing, damn-near-blackout level pain of having your pubic hairs ripped out at the roots by a stranger. I know some people say it isn’t that bad but they’re lying and they don’t love you! (Or they just don’t have a lot of hair to begin with, in which case please just stfu.)
2. It’s cleaner
I have yet to see any real evidence that proves hairlessness is indeed healthier, cleaner or safer for women (magazine quizzes do not count). Some studies report that shaving makes you more susceptible to herpes or other infections, while others say having no hair makes it easier to detect problems early. Some note that pubic hair keeps your lady oven warm and provides a layer of cushion (for the pushing, *meow*) but can also trap odor and other unwanted bodily fluids. Having played for both the bald eagles and the wolves, I didn’t notice any difference in cleanliness. Nobody is telling you to let things get all Tom-Hanks-in-Cast-Away down there anyway (unless you want to, then by all means go for it).
But as long as my sanitary pads, my underwear, my jeans, and pretty much every other thing I put against my nana are full of toxic crap linked to cancer, reproductive problems, and all kinds of other wack shit (or I can finally move to that pants-free island I’ve been dreaming about), I will keep my bush as a barrier. It’s not going to keep everything out (it’s not tupperware, people), but it’s sure better than leaving her down there all defenseless and sad and alone like Drake on Valentine’s Day.
3. Men don’t like it
I know there is a lot of pressure on women who have sex with women and other gender non-conforming folks. But I have never seen more unfounded hysteria around personal grooming than from women who have sex with men. We are terrified that he’ll think we’re Kim Kardashian until we take our clothes off and then he’ll suddenly realize he made a huge mistake and shame us for our yeti crotch, our muffin top, our armpit fat. Let me let you in on a little secret: most men are just happy to be getting some and don’t give a shit about your hair situation. Long, short, bald — will they even remember in the morning? As long as you are reasonably well-maintained and cootie-free, they’ll give you what you came for. To highlight this fact, I have done a thorough review of all my past sexual encounters and compiled it into this informative graph:
That’s right. I have a pretty healthy bush and zero complaints to date. (Well, a very long list of complaints but none related to hair. Men are just so needythese days.) But I know what you’re thinking. If guys will have sex with pretty much anyone given the opportunity, then how does this prove anything? Well, I have conducted a second empirical analysis on that very topic:
A little trimming or sculpting is usually appreciated, especially if you are hoping for cunnilingus, but there is no logistical mandate for going totally bareback. Nobody ever in the history of earth was physically unable to insert penis into vagina due to hair interference. If they really get all Lewis-and-Clark-lost-in-the-woods down there, I am pretty sure they don’t know what they’re doing anyway and you’ll be glad you didn’t waste $60 and an afternoon with an icepack on your cooch for that joker. Please refer to my next and final graph:
On a scale of “just stay home and eat ice cream” to “Ryan Gosling,” you can see that guys who really get the job done aren’t afraid of a little hair. And even if they are, who cares?! The only time you should even be entertaining any commentary on your vajoon is if you are in a relationship with someone you trust and care about. And in that case, reciprocity is not too much to ask. Shaved scrotums and manzilians are totally reasonable requests and you can probably get a couple’s discount if you go together.
4. Hair down there is just gross
You know what is way grosser than hair? Poop. And Pee. But you still put the organs that make those gross things in your mouth and nobody has suggested that we eliminate oral sex. Good luck trying to get that campaign off the ground, friend.
5. It looks better
This, of course, is purely subjective. To me, hairless vaginas look like newly born baby horses. You know, when they first come out covered with slime and shaky on their legs and looking generally undercooked? They’re still cute (because ponies) but they have some living to do before I want to go up and pet them and feed them sugar cubes. And this is the beauty of self-expression: I hate the way wedge sneakers and peplum dresses look. You hate the way that cut-off band tees and big fake gold jewelry look (95% of my wardrobe). But even with different styles we can (1) still be friends (2) support each others’ choices (3) not be shitty to each other about it. Just don’t invite me to your peplum party and we’re good.
Why it matters
The tricky thing is when you think something is just your honest, deep-down preference but it’s actually because the guy you dated in high school said something awful and immature and you never forgot it. Or you’re just so worried about getting side eye from the skinny bitches in the lockerroom at the gym you barely go to and can’t really afford. Or you were taught that your vagina was dirty and shameful and you should do whatever you can to “clean her up”. Maybe you just want one less thing to worry about getting approval on when you take your clothes off.
Whatever your reason, I don’t believe it’s an accident that women are being persuaded to make their vaginas look like they did before they became women. Maybe it is fear of death/aging, maybe it is some post-postmodern fuckery, or maybe it is something much deeper and pathological that makes my skin crawl. These questions are way over my pay grade, but I do know it’s worth some honest self-reflection.
The Bottom Line
We are sexiest when we are self-assured, confident, and don’t look to others (especially men) for approval/affirmation. Nobody has time for the pussy hair police, so tell those fools to get off your areola!