Dear Vagina

Everyone was telling me it was wonderful, ‘Do it!’ they would say, ‘you will never look back!’ they would encourage and my favourite as if it’s the most important thing in the world, ‘you’ll save soooo much money!’ Oh I looked back alright, over my shoulder with tears streaming down my face.

I know I’ve been pretty slack lately when it comes to taking your coat off inside. It’s by no means an excuse, but it is winter and the reasons to de-coat you are few and far between. Let’s face it, I’m not parading down at the beach in my bikini in 10 degrees of frostiness am I?

And to crap on further to make me feel like it is all justified, I have been so busy with work, the family, it’s just one more thing I had to think about and I simply didn’t have the time to race up the street to another appointment.

Now, I know there would be thousands of women right now oohing and aaahing about the fact that I have decided to not keep my business ‘situated’, I can hear them now ‘Oh my gosh, what would her husband think?’ and even worse, ‘She should thank her lucky stars she’s married ’cause no guy would even go near that!’

To a degree, I get that. But, on the other hand, I was starting to like my lady lawn. You never got cold, it fit beautifully concealed in my panties and I actually felt like more of a woman. Let’s face it, as much of a nudie nazi anyone may be, women were meant to have a little hair down there, how else did our cave sistas keep their shit warm on those frosty dinosaur-invading evenings? It’s not barbaric or untidy, it’s beautifully feminine.

Obviously however, the sheer pressure of product commercialism and westernised culture became too much for me. I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that I was too much of a girl to stand up for pubic poverty or the fact that the promise of saving myself time and a bit of moolah took precedence over your feelings and your pain threshold.

The box said I needed to have some experience first, my girlfriends said just slap it on and rip it off. Of course, I took the latter advice. The box said to heat it for 70 seconds, I heated it for 65. The box said to apply in a figure 8 motion, I applied it as I saw fit; in a straight line, back and forth. The box said the pull the skin taut and then pull rapidly, I grabbed the bottom lip of the wax and just reefed it off.

Minute by minute, my poor little Suzie, you got redder and redder, puffier and puffier. The wax pulled the bigger guys out but left these little tufts everywhere as if little seedlings had just sprouted in the garden. I should have stopped, but I was determined to get it all out and you continued to cop a beating. If vagina’s could cry, I am pretty sure you were howling.

In the end, I gave up. Partially due to the pain and lack of skill, and partially due to the fact that I couldn’t be bothered anymore. That lack of commitment has left you with a slightly patchy yet almost hairless mound and an untouched undercoat, not unlike a mullet. Try that on for sexy!

I completely understand now that I should have stopped being a stingey minge and just made the appointment. I now also understand why our beautician charges what she does; it’s bloody hard work! And I also know that you like our beautician better than me. When you see her, you don’t hide. When she raises a hand to you, you don’t flinch. And even when she applies the smouldering waxy substance, you purr like a kitten at its touch. I didn’t realise how important she was to the both of us.

You have given me so much pleasure over the years (no shame there!) and we made promises you and I. To serve and protect from all potential danger, both by my hand and that of others. I am ashamed to say that I did not hold up my end of the bargain and I am so very sorry. I still do wonder however, why we can’t just flip the bird to the pretentious views of society and the seemingly male preferences and grow our gardens with pride. Why shouldn’t we give you the warmth of a muff mitten in winter and the breeziness of a batting strip in summer? Hair down there is necessary for protection, not just against the elements, but also to prevent foreign matter from entering our nether regions and to enhance moisture to stop you from cracking. I can’t even imagine the pain involved in a cracked ham wallet.

So, I want to make a stance and call all women, far and wide, to put down those razors, unplug that wax pot, and embrace your natural femininity. Let’s declare the introduction of Fanuary women worldwide unite in January and grow those muff mountains out and proud! And to those women who find the thought of naturalness unsightly, then I urge you; please, please visit your beautician. Make that appointment and get your own foo foo the best wax job possible. No woman wants to do what I’m currently doing, walking around, legs far apart, like a pineapple has been stuffed into no-man’s land!