After spending almost two months overseas in a country with limited access to running water, let alone a good beautician, it’s safe to say I’d let myself go when it came to personal grooming — the main culprit being my nether regions.
That’s right, I’m talking about my pubic hair.
That was the thought consuming my mind as I was lying on my partner’s bed after not having seen each other for an extended period of time. It was safe to say what was going to happen next. He began pulling my pants down and it immediately dawned on me what Sasha* was about to uncover.
Thinking back, I couldn’t actually remember the last time I’d let my pubic hair grow out completely. It’s safe to say the last time I would’ve been possession of a full bush would have been in early high school. Even at that young age, I still remember it being drilled into me (mostly by pubescent boys) that having a lady bush was plain gross. So once I hit 15 or so, I quickly took to shaving.
WATCH: Is pubic hair back on trend? (Post continues…)
Sasha had never seen me with a single hair on my vagina.
We’d been together for almost two years and in that time, he’d never once been acquainted with my full lady bush. Heck, I didn’t even really know what my full lady bush looked like anymore after all those hairless years.
It was after one particularly heinous experience with an ex-boyfriend (you’ll understand why shortly) that I swore I would forever aim to maintain a pre-pubescent appearing vagina. Not a hair in sight, I promised myself.
John* was the asshole I dated before I met Sasha, and he made it very clear about how he felt about my pubic hair one night when he unexpectedly invited me over after I’d been at the gym. We began messing around when he quickly commented on my short sprouting hairs.