Hairy Bitches: Or, How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love My Pubes

I remember the first time I shaved my pubes. I was a teenager and I slid up on a counter and looked my boyfriend dead in the eyes to show my bare pussy. It was as though my smooth cunt was a tractor beam that had his eyes in a solid lock that was pulling him directly into the mothership. Shaving felt taboo, dangerous, and deliberately sexual. He adored it and even I ran my fingers and palm over my own flesh amazed at its sleekness.

Of course I never thought twice about shaving my armpits. At the first sign of hair I looked to the razor the same way one looked to Kotex at the first sign of menstrual blood. Being a woman meant shaving the armpits. It was a ritual for adults. It was instinctual. My pubic hair got to grow in but my pits never had that experience. Hairy arm pits meant that you were the angry feminist type, probably a lesbian, and probably dirty.

The uniform at my all girls school called for knee-high stockings and a grey pleated skirt. It wasn’t uncommon that many of us would shave the gap between our stockings and hemline as a way to save both time and face for the school day. This lead to the prank of “socking” someone; if you noticed the girl in front of you had neglected to shave her whole legs you would grab the tops of their stockings and pull them down to their ankles. One part beauty standard enforcement by shaming, another part the sublimation of something sexual we would probably get demerits for talking about aloud.

I’m a recently converted hair girl. It happened as something of a process. I used to shave my pussy for porn and you’ll notice that I’m totally bare for my Kink.Com shoots. You’ll also notice the increasing amount of visible irritation. My skin took a turn for the sensitive (after a course of P.E.P. )  in late 2009. I developed a sensitivity to latex/rubber and my all forms of hair removal resulted in red splotches and strong negative reactions. Everyone had their own easy answer for hair removal but no one mentioned the option of skipping the shaving ritual..

“If you’re irritated by shaving you’re just not doing it right” (even if it was never a problem in the past). “You should try waxing” (even if that resulted in massive breakouts.) “Use this shaving lotion! Try that shaving lotion! Use sea kelp on the full moon and say a prayer of hairlessness!”

At first I stopped shaving my pubes and shaved my pits and legs for dates, performances, or special occasions. I went out one sunny day without having done any hair removal and a random dude teased me for my underarm stubble. My first instinct was to make a self-deprecating joke about being a slacker until it dawned on me that I was apologizing for not catering to his preferred hair aesthetic. Moreover, I realized that I didn’t even know what my armpits even looked like with full growth and I was curious. Why was I keeping a secret from myself anyway?

So then I let it grow and grow. As it turns out, I’m rather fond of my full bush and my hairy armpits. On one hand, it means less porn work is available to you. On the other hand, there’s a new group of fans and admirers to get to know. It’s interesting how fluid desire and aesthetics are. When full hair was the expected standard, it was taboo to shave it. Now it’s much more taboo to be a femme bear.

I’m also fascinated by the fact that hairness is considered masculine even though the term “bush” is still has a strong feminine connotation. I don’t think hairiness is either masculine or feminine so much as it is mammalian. I’ve had lots of fun with it, too. I’ll wear an evening dress with traditionally smoky face makeup and a splash of glitter in my pit hair. Using temporary hair color on my pussy hair can add some energy to a shoot.

What’s interesting about hair is the way its an amplifier for arousal. The smell of my pussy is like my invisible hard-on. I love the sensations I get from stroking or tugging on my hair. By sporting my hair I am not opposing anyone removing theirs. Sometimes I have interactions with women who spot it and fumble through commentary about how they aren’t judging my hair but they like to shave and they totally choose it and it’s totally not because there is an expectation of hairlessness for women. In those situations, I’m usually like “…or maybe instead of marinara we could totally do a pesto sauce…armpits?”

I like pussy smothering with a full bush and it turns me on when someone laps up the sweat from my pits. High heels on hairy legs look great on any gender, not just boys. I don’t center my grooming rituals around shocking people but I’m amused that I do. I’m amazed that jaded adult industry veterans will still double take at the sight of hair crawling out from T-shirts and panties like the it was the most obscene thing they’ve ever seen. Having public hair crawl out of my panties like Audrey II: XXX kind of puts a spring in my step.

I love my rowdy Jungle bush. I like the way it’s warm and damp and looks so dense it could strangle you and then swallow you whole. I love when I can smell my horny cunt through my jeans. I think it’s utterly absurd that so many people are intimidated by hair under my arms. I love how men will come up and tell me out of the blue just how unfuckable they think I am and how they won’t ever go down on an unshaved pussy. I stay up at night crying and grieving over the loss of these obviously fantastic partners. With an attitude like that I can be totally certain that they’re invested in my orgasm and I’ll never have to worry about getting a bad case of “blue clit” because they think it’s weird that I want to use a vibrator while we fuck.

It’s weird that so many people do think of having depilation averse skin as a condition to be remedied. It’s really a non-problem problem. The answer is totally free and easy: just don’t remove your hair. Bam! Horrible red blotchiness and wretched breakouts solved. Gone. Obliterated. Moreover, I don’t feel burdened by my body hair. My partner digs it, I dig it, and there are a growing number of people who totally dig it, too. We’re just hanging out and being hairy. Have fun shaving, collect straight razors (I still think they’re sexy!), and modifying your body how you see fit. But, when I don’t know you and you blurt out how much you love shaving, I think you’re the one with the hair issues, not me. Also, go away creeper.

It’s just hair. It turns out that removing mine has adverse effects. I stopped doing it and refused to hate myself for being burdened with hair. I actually like how it worked out.  When someone’s really into it, it’s like my cunt got an upgrade on its tractor beam pulling folks into the mothership for some hot femme bear action.

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