We all have personal preferences concerning body hair and often we're not opposed to vocalising and/or entirely altering these opinions in relation to a new partner, circumstance or simply due to the natural progression of ageing.
For example:
Recently I've found myself with a preference for men that keep their hair cropped and also reassessing my stance on facial hair that looks as though it required the aid of a protractor. Equally so I remain unchanged in regards to excessive underarm hair but with a growing fondness for a little chest fluff...although I pointedly leave the room when confronted with anything that progresses beyond ones shoulders.
Despite our comfortable and relatively laid back attitude concerning head, torso or thigh the sticking point often comes when we venture below the panty line; I am yet to meet a majority, within those willing to discuss it at all, who are also open to changing their preconceptions about pubic hair.
Luckily, Amanda Palmer has thrust this debate into the public forum over the past few days with her new video for 'Map of Tasmania':
Not only is this a fucking phenomenal piece of visual art but it promotes an incredibly valuable message of comfort and creativity with ones own body.
Which leads me to the point of this blog - where do my readers and peers stand on hair vs. bare?
Admittedly, thanks to formative years spent in high-cut lycra, I've always been hairless and fancy free but I'm rapidly starting to agree with Ms. Palmer's observations regarding stubble and a lack of pubic topiary looking disturbingly prepubescent.
I know, from forced discussion, that most of my previous sexual partners have been bought off by the hygiene pseudo-science or beaten around the face by the commonly accepted, modern notions of female beauty but it really isn't a that distant past when a bit of bush was erotic vogue.
Now, I can fully understand the desire to keep your lady garden in check but when you begin to give it a little thought there's really no end to the imaginative fun one can have whilst doing it.
Further to this, the choice to "grow that shit like a jungle" needn't be a call to abandon other female grooming habits nor does it require adopting any affectations of militant feminism - the point is only this; ladies, you have a choice.
The world will likely not end should you go wild for a few weeks and if your partner takes issue, you could do worse than asking them to justify it - I wager they'll either rapidly change the topic of conversation or will find themselves inclined (with a little prompting) to rediscover a now exotic landscape.
Annie
<3
For example:
Recently I've found myself with a preference for men that keep their hair cropped and also reassessing my stance on facial hair that looks as though it required the aid of a protractor. Equally so I remain unchanged in regards to excessive underarm hair but with a growing fondness for a little chest fluff...although I pointedly leave the room when confronted with anything that progresses beyond ones shoulders.
Despite our comfortable and relatively laid back attitude concerning head, torso or thigh the sticking point often comes when we venture below the panty line; I am yet to meet a majority, within those willing to discuss it at all, who are also open to changing their preconceptions about pubic hair.
Luckily, Amanda Palmer has thrust this debate into the public forum over the past few days with her new video for 'Map of Tasmania':
Not only is this a fucking phenomenal piece of visual art but it promotes an incredibly valuable message of comfort and creativity with ones own body.
Which leads me to the point of this blog - where do my readers and peers stand on hair vs. bare?
Admittedly, thanks to formative years spent in high-cut lycra, I've always been hairless and fancy free but I'm rapidly starting to agree with Ms. Palmer's observations regarding stubble and a lack of pubic topiary looking disturbingly prepubescent.
I know, from forced discussion, that most of my previous sexual partners have been bought off by the hygiene pseudo-science or beaten around the face by the commonly accepted, modern notions of female beauty but it really isn't a that distant past when a bit of bush was erotic vogue.
Now, I can fully understand the desire to keep your lady garden in check but when you begin to give it a little thought there's really no end to the imaginative fun one can have whilst doing it.
Further to this, the choice to "grow that shit like a jungle" needn't be a call to abandon other female grooming habits nor does it require adopting any affectations of militant feminism - the point is only this; ladies, you have a choice.
The world will likely not end should you go wild for a few weeks and if your partner takes issue, you could do worse than asking them to justify it - I wager they'll either rapidly change the topic of conversation or will find themselves inclined (with a little prompting) to rediscover a now exotic landscape.
Annie
<3
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