The hair down there...

Since moving to Los Angeles three months ago, I have noticed that it is a city that is very comfortable with its sexuality. There are billboards with beautiful, nearly naked girls giggling and chasing after each other, pulling down each other's jeans teasing you on Sunset Blvd. Women walk the streets with a sense of self (delusion) confidence and show their hard earned/paid for assets with many forms of cleavage-bearing tops.
Now I am not a prude, but I come from a long line of prudes in a community of prudish behavior. One of the things I have been forced to face since making the trek out west is my own sexuality - beginning with the turn at the Spa with my girlfriend in Santa Fe where all the women were bathing naked - except me of course. I felt silly and prudish in my bikini and couldn't help but look at all the beautiful women lounging naked in all shapes and sizes. So what does this have to do with pubic hair? I think admitting that you have pubic hair and that it is something that needs to be maintained, manicured is utterly foreign to me. Where I come from, women whisper about getting bikini waxes and to be honest, I didn't even know what that consisted of until last year when I went through that thrillingly painful experience to impress a lover. Since then and the desert that has been my sex life, I have forgotten about my pubic hair, just like I forget that I have sexual needs and desires that need to be fulfilled, even if I am not in a loving, committed relationship. One night a few weeks ago, I was attending a Moth performance at UCLA and one of the speakers made a joke about how he hasn't seen pubic hair on a woman in years. It hit me, I had been left behind on a major trend in female behavior. I looked around the audience to see many sophistacted, beautiful women throwing their heads back in knowing laughter with the speaker. I felt like I was 12 years old again watching my friends put their training bras on in the gym locker room, wondering when I was going to taste my own growing femininity. I gave a weak ha ha and promised myself that I would think about managing my hair down there sometime soon. The other night I was hanging out downtown, feeling posh in the VIP lounge of some club sipping free champagne with friends. The conversation turned to pubic hair and my girlfriend announced proudly that she shaved it all off and dramatically showed us the process she goes through in the shower. Nothing at all, I asked her? Not a stitch, you don't want your man picking hair out of his teeth - she replied. I looked sheepishly over at the guy who was in our circle who, by the way had just visited that area on MY body only a few weeks before. He was kind about it and said - no, it wasn't all that bad to have hair down there. I was thrown and worked hard to quickly change the subject, but couldn't get the thought out of my mind that I needed to do something, needed to get on the ball, and finally take care of it. Later that night - the boy asked me why I didn't get it waxed or shave it. I tried to explain to him that it was a rare occasion when people actually see this part of me, so why bother? I back tracked and let him know that I would love to be able to maintain it in some way on a regualr basis - you know, once I get settled and everything. He smiled and I turned red and wanted to die. Here was this guy who works with strippers and porn stars, I was totally out of my league. This morning I got into the shower and looked down. It was astounding. It looked like a jungle! I decided that now was as good a time as any and I grabbed my shaving gel and went to town. I worked and worked and after a while, created what I think was a very nice landing strip, mohawk sort of arrangement. I got out and gave it a good trim. After I put on my pants, I decided that I wanted to check it out in the mirror and see how it turned out. I pulled my pants down and then my panties....I looked good. All the sudden I looked sexy down there, like a woman who gets laid all the time and is groomed and ready for sex. Satisfied, I pulled my pants up, smiled at myself in the mirror with pride and hopped in my car where I felt - no lie- at least five pounds lighter!

First time out

Welcome to my blog. I have three months of adventures to catch up on, but now is not the time. Things to think about - staying out all night on a Monday and how that affects my job. Also, post traumatic stress disorder of the "former" teacher: How to live your life no longer under the scrutiny of students, parents and a local Board of Education. The temptation to go wild is strong. I have to admit I have given in and plan to go further into the depths of depravity to test myself and see how far I can take it. Please come along with me for the ride.

Na-na