When my life overwhelms me – which, as an introverted entrepreneur and mother, is often – I try to escape to the one place that I know no one will speak to me, The Korean Day Spa. I spend the entire day there, soaking, steaming, sweating, and watching the glorious variety of women move through this sacred space as the holy bodies that they are. Everyone is naked, as mandated by the spa itself. They come in all shapes, sizes, colors, styles, and when surrounded by them I truly feel as if I am part of something, some magic thing that needs no words or creed. The mere fact of our nipples and wrinkles and bulges, and the fact that we all look ridiculously bad in the little shower caps the spa makes us wear, is enough to refill my soul. If I were the platitude sort, some part of me would probably start singing, “I am woman, hear me roar,” but the rest of me would be all like “shut up, bitch,” and I would return to the silence that I so crave. Keep reading »
I’m a fan of referring to pubic hair sans styling as “fur pie,” because it makes everyone in The Frisky offices squeal for some reason. Maybe from now on I’ll just say “1962″ and hope everyone gets my pubic drift. If they watch this clever Playboy South Africa video about how ladies have styled their pubic hair throughout the ages via dude’s hairstyles — totally safe for work! — they certainly will. [The Gloss]
I am the only woman in NYC who has never gotten waxed. This is a fact. If someone collected statistics, the numbers would definitely confirm it.
You could say I’m a bit of a wild woman. My hair is unpredictable, my nail polish is usually mostly chipped off, I can’t do a pantsuit to save my life and I have all sorts of body hair.
I know, I should be ashamed. I once wondered if anyone would ever love me. You’d think not, but actually, I’ve been married for a year! It doesn’t count, though, because he’s the hairiest man in the world. He’s basically half wildebeest. So he doesn’t notice these things. That’s the only possible explanation. Keep reading »
“This is way too much information, but I don’t like girls with nothing down there either. It freaks me out. You have to have something, otherwise it’s fucking creepy.”
– Daniel Radcliffe tells Heat magazine that he does not like a bald beaver. Luckily my bald beaver does not like Daniel Radcliffe, but I am always happy to hear about the pubic hair preferences of (guys who played) child wizards. Radcliffe, of course, bared his ample thatch (I just love that word) of pubic fuzz when he appeared nude in the play “Equus.” [Dlisted]
When pubic hair first appeared on my adolescent body, I was mortified. I wanted it gone as quickly as it sprouted. It just felt, for lack of a better word, bizarre to have it there. But at the age of 11, waxing was not option. Well, maybe it is nowadays, but in the late ’80s, that was not a something that happened.
By the time I got to college and started getting naked with boys, I felt mortified afresh when, after receiving oral sex for the first time, my boyfriend stepped back from my vagina, and pulled a long pubic hair out of his mouth. I thought I would never recover. He didn’t seem to mind one bit. It was 1996.
After we broke up, I started sleeping with an older guy who was absolutely wild about giving cunnilingus, full bush and all. His enthusiasm made me start to like my pubes. Keep reading »
There’s no eloquent way to talk about bush, or for those of you who prefer to be anatomically correct, pubic hair. But some terms for ladies’ pubic regions are far more inappropriate than others. For example, a certain Frisky employee who shall remained unnamed, referred to her own bush as a “fur pie.” As in, “I am off to get my fur pie waxed.” I had never heard the term before and I hope never to hear it again. After the jump, a list of unapproved names for a woman’s bush. Keep reading »