decota

The Hair Down There part 2
Under L. Marie
The other day this chic described the shape of her manicured pubic garden as a "Dorito". I just about fell over when I heard her say that. In case you don't know what a Dorito is, it's an inverted equilateral triangle. And to think I have been using that style for so long, never knowing its proper name.

If I don't give my self a style resembling a tasty nacho cheese chip, I usually do a landing strip or go bald. Most of the decision is based on time allowance. If i'm in a rush, I'll just clean up what ever I've already got going on down there. If time is of no concern I'll take my time shaping it into a landing strip. if I fuck up the landing strip I just take it all off.

Since the day I first sprouted pubes, I wanted them gone! I thought they were gross and ugly. My first one came in about the age of ten, right about the same time I got my period. It was then that my mother finally agreed to letting me rid myself of disgusting leg hair. I had been complaining for months. "I don't want that nasty brown hair on my legs any more! We live in Florida for Christ's Sake and I run around the jungle gym in shorts! Sure this hair used to be blonde but you know what? It's not anymore! It's Brown! Brown. Brown. Brown. Ugly, Dirty, POOPY BROWN!"

My mother didn't think I was big enough to use a razor. But she did toss me a bottle of Nair. I smoothed the pink paste on my legs in thick globs. How glorious it was to be rid of my unsightly leg hair in all its pubescent fluffiness. I looked down at my pubic region and figured I would get rid of that nasty wannabe bush while I was at it. As soon as the chemical hair removing cocktail touched my crotch it burned like fire. "Motherfucker!" I quickly splashed handful after handful of hot water from the sink on my poor little twat hopping up and down in pain with nothing on but an Esprit T-shirt and Nair still caked on my legs.

When the burning subsided I looked at the pubic hair that was half-eaten away. My pussy skin was a blotchy pink and red and extremely sensitive to the touch. Carefully I removed the Nair from my legs and waited for my vagina to return to a norman color. When it finally did after almost two hours, I snuck into my older sister Megan's bathroom and stole one of her razor's. I didn't care that at the age of 10 I was the only person who'd know what my pubic hair looked like. I didn't want to have to look at a Frankenpussy!

I carefully shaved the rest of the scraggly little hair off and felt relieved. once.

A year after the Nair incident, I bought a home wax kit from Walgreens. I rode the five miles to the drug store on my bike after seeing a commercial that said, "Lasts a week longer then shaving!" Well, that sounded pretty damn good to me. I was going to be in a swim suit the next day and needed to clean up down there anyway. so off I went.

I got all set up. Hot wax on the pussy hair. Check! Fabric strip on the wax. Check! Deep Breath. Check! And pull...And Pull. I had my hand gripping the corner of the strip that was stuck to the left side of my bikini line, which is where the diagram said to put it. I saw that my skin was lifting just with the small amount of force I put on the strip to grip it properly. I knew this wasn't going to end well. But I didn't see any way out of this other then yanking the strip. My only option was to wear the piece of fabric until it decided to fall, which would look pretty fucking weird at Jessica Baker's pool party, my reason for waxing in the first place.

I finally mustered up the courage, yanked, yelled and looked down at the pulsing red patch of skin where not a single hair had been removed. "What the?" I looked at the piece of fabric and there wasn't any hair on it. "Why didn't that work?" I asked my self in the mirror. I knew one thing for sure. I wasn't doing that again!

With no bottoms on and a bikini top covering my sapling titties I marched across the great living room to my mother's bedroom. "Mooommmuuuhh! Mom! I tried to wax and it didn't wooorkkuhh!" She looked up from her gigantic magnifying make-up mirror and looked down at my pitiful excuse of a vagina. "Well honey," she went back to putting on her mascara, "That's because your hair," she opened her mouth slightly while switching eyes, "isn't long enough."

"Explain." I said arms crossed, hip out to the side.

"Your pubic hair isn't long enough for the wax to work. The hair is to short. Have you been shaving?"

"Uuughhh!" I turned on my heels and marched back into the bathroom to actually read the instructions instead of just looking at the diagram. And there it was in plain text. "Hair must be at least a half inch long." I had tried to wax off my stubble.

I ended up just shaving it all off again. I was not about to let my bush get wild enough to wax, and judging by the pain of not even ripping the hair out, there was no way in hell I'd ever do that again.

So shave I have for 14 years. Bare. Landing strips. Doritos. once I tried to do letters; a D, an A, even an L. They all looked like someone with Downs Syndrome had tried to style my pubes , and I mowed them into something less challenging. I once did a sort of Hilter down there. That was fun. But I forgot the guy I was dating at the time was Jewish and he didn't see the humor in it. I guess he didn't want to fuck an Anti-semetic vagina. So bye bye Hitler Pussy 'Stache. I also did a wide version of a lading strip call a Mohican, since it can look like a Mohawk if grown out enough. But I have never EVER let my self go Full Bush. If I wanted to look like a shag carpet I would've gotten extensions a long time ago