The Tale of a Shaved Pussy January 8, 2015

I remember the moment I decided to shave my pubic hair. I was at an afterparty in London with a dozen or so friends. They were fetish models and photographers. I was finally hanging with the scene makers and I wanted desperately to belong. We had been out to a fetish club and stayed up all night high on drugs. As the orange sun of early morning peeked through the curtains, we still wore our fetish gear from the night before. Corsets and high heels, latex and leather. The discomfort of sweat and constriction forgotten. Cigarette butts discarded in half empty cocktails. We talked about how special we were. A few of us stood in the center of the room dancing and laughing, waiting our turn for a line of coke. We flirted and dared each other to outrageousness. Diana, with curls of shiny black hair bouncing around bright red lips reached her hand between my legs and I adjusted my hips so she could explore more easily. We laughed as she casually felt up the outside of my PVC shorts. I remember the look on her face, wide eyed and nonchalantly mocking as she tugged on a tuft of my pubic hair.

“Jesus Christ, Polly, you’ve got a such a hairy pussy.” I suddenly felt awkward. My confidence seeped away and I felt my face redden.

“I don’t like to shave,” I retorted, “stubble is nasty.”

“Check this out you guys, Polly’s pussy is soooo hairy.”

I don’t have a particularly hairy body. I’m fair and my hair is fine. I’ve never shaved my legs. My pussy hair is light with a reddish tinge. It doesn’t grow past the necessary area. I was 22 years old and had never thought of shaving. Diana tugged on the hair again and I pulled away.

“It’s so long! It’s, like, the longest pussy hair I’ve seen in years.” Everyone at the party laughed and I pretended like it didn’t bother me.

After the party I went home and considered my options. I didn’t want to shave my pubic hair off entirely like the other girls in the fetish scene, leaving them bald as an 8 year old. I didn’t like the way that looked or felt. But perhaps I could meet them half way. If I just shaved underneath then my pubic hair would be accepted. I lay back in the bath and picked up my razor, holding it in front of my face contemplatively. I wanted to pretend this was my decision, that I was a grown up, that I had learned something new about how to be sexy, and that I liked the idea of shaving. As I dragged the razor across my labia I convinced myself I was in control. Five minutes later my pussy was pink and hairless, and just a little nicked, with a triangle of strawberry blonde starting just above it. For the next couple of decades my hair stayed the same. I trimmed the sides and a little from the top to stop it from poking out from my underwear, and I shaved myself bald underneath.

I first started questioning my relationship to my pubic hair when I decided to take a break from having sex nearly two decades later. At first I continued my grooming, even though nobody would see it. But then the questions began. Why am I doing this? Who am I doing this for? Is this for me? Or for my sexual partners? Or is something else going on here? I would allow you to grow back for a while, but then hurriedly shave it off again with a pang of shame.

Then one day I thought to myself, “why do we have pubic hair anyway?” I went online and googled that very question and I discovered a most amazing fact. Not only does the layer of pubic hair help to prevent skin to skin infections like herpes and HPV, but shaving and waxing create tiny micro-tears in the skin which make infection way more likely. WTF? Really? Pubic hair protects us from STDs, and yet the sluttier we are the more likely we are to shave it off, making our delicate genitals vulnerable and exposed. This seems downright illogical.

Looking back it’s pretty clear that I allowed my vanity—my desire to belong—to dictate my relationship with my pubic hair. I followed the fashion, and I didn’t question it or look too closely at my motives. I allowed myself to think it was a personal preference. I admit, I do like I do like the feeling of slippery smooth freshly shaved labia, but I haven’t questioned why. Thinking about it now I realize that it’s pretty much all I’ve known. My entire slutty adult sex life I’ve had a shaved pussy, so of course that’s sexy to me.

So I decided to grow back my bush. It’s not super long and unkempt, but neatly trimmed and perfectly coiffed. I’m still getting used to it, but I like the way it feels. There’s a whole new sensation to nearly touching my pussy that I’ve never experienced before. The brush of a hand tickling the pubes on my labia feels good.

I’m happy to be in a place where I can finally overcome the social pressure of shaving, and make a decision based on what I want. It’s my body, my pubes, my health, my pleasure, and my choice.

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The Tale of a Shaved Pussy

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Polly

Polly Whittaker is a 21st century sex culture revolutionary. She has dedicated her life to sexually progressive community, as an acclaimed latex fashion designer, a creator of arty, sexy parties, and a spokesperson for sex culture. Born in London, England, in 1974, she is the daughter of a hot air balloon pilot and a sex therapist. She relocated to San Francisco—home of the sexual revolution—in 1999. Her award-winning event, Kinky Salon, takes place in a dozen cities across Europe and North America. She recently joined forces with Christopher Ryan, Author of NYT Bestselling Book Sex at Dawn to create Kotango.com—a social network for global sex culture.

The Tale of a Shaved Pussy January 8, 2015

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