I’m taking a cue from Jodie Foster’s Golden Globes speech and outing myself: I’m a bikini waxer. I’ve been waxing regularly since 2001. But that doesn’t mean I’ve gotten used to it. I’m not going to pretend like it’s no biggie. After more than a decade, I still think it hurts like a motherfucker. I take Advil before I go and use numbing spray, but it’s still incredibly painful. And for the record, I will never stop praying for full bush to come back in style. The ’70s were the best! But there is some really, really good news about crotch waxing that makes all the pain worth it.
According to some new research, all of our effort (men and women both!) to remain hairless down there has put crabs on the endangered species list. That’s right! Pubic lice is on the verge of extinction. Keep reading »
By now, you’ve probably watched or at least, heard about Jodie Foster’s acceptance speech for the Cecil B. DeMille Award at last night’s Golden Globes. Today, the internet is a abuzz with reactions to her “coming out” speech. Foster dropped the declaration that we’ve all been waiting for:
“I’m just going to put it out there right, loud and proud … I am, uh, single … I hope you’re not disappointed that there won’t be a big coming out speech tonight. I already did my coming out about a thousand years ago back in the Stone Age. Those very quaint days when a fragile young girl would open up to trusted friends and family and co-workers, and then gradually and proudly to everyone who knew her, to everyone she actually met.”
Met, being the operative word, Foster went on to comment on the issue of privacy, joking that nowadays, celebrities are expected to honor the details of their private lives “with a press conference, a fragrance and a prime-time reality show.” Keep reading »
Leave it to Vice to attempt to make the merkin a high fashion accessory. Because, it’s not about what’s going on over your pants, it’s about what’s going on under them. Lounging around the house, flipping through a magazine is fun, especially when your vagina is growing a rainbow. Click through to see more from Vice’s “Merkin’ Around” fashion spread complete with where to buy the accessories that make a pubic wig pop. [Vice]
I’m a big fan of Slate’s “Explainer” column, which enlists experts to answer those questions that boggle the mind. Oh, how this appeals to my inner science geek. Like when they explained why the rich and famous sunbathe topless. The answer: Because they can. Ha! OK, back to the question that caught my attention: How did humans figure out that sex makes babies? Ooh, good one! An abridged version of the answer after the jump. Keep reading »
You know how the Victorian era was all fainting couches and chastity belts? Evidently, the Restoration era* was off the chain.
Per The Guardian, a book called Aristotle’s Compleat Master-Piece is now being brought to auction. While the book was originally published in an era best referred to as the Restoration, around 1680, the copy in question was produced somewhere in the neighborhood of 1760 in the so-called Georgian era.
Art, architecture and smut (fine, pornography and erotica) has coexisted since the first cave bro sketched a spear going from his crotch into a cave woman’s crotch rather than from his hand into a mastodon’s keister. Tell me that pyramids don’t remind you of early man trying to cover his turgidity with a gauzy linen sheet. Read more…
At the age of three, I already didn’t want to be a girl. I saw from watching my mom what it was like to be a grown-up girl and it didn’t look good. Here are the few memories from childhood that I hadn’t managed to suppress:
We came home once to find our apartment ransacked by burglars. I was forced to drink powdered milk everyday, which I hated. My dad chasing my mom with a big knife into the kitchen. My brother and I, who were kneeling facing the wall as punishment for who-knows-what, turned and watched them run by. Screaming. My dad coming in the bathroom interrupting me and my brother taking a shower together. He came in to punish my brother, hitting him on the butt. My brother remembers us hiding under the dining table while chairs were being thrown around. Apparently my dad used to bring women home, even when my mom was home.
Needless to say I was a sad little kid. By the time I escaped to the U.S. at age six I told myself my life starts now and never to look back. Keep reading »