Last night I suddenly thought about how much I miss Sex and the City, my all time favourite show. I poured myself a glass of wine, got cosy on the sofa and downloaded a whole lot of episodes.
Season 3. Episode 14.
Carrie has her first ever bikini wax. She goes in for a trim and tidy up and comes out totally bare.
Apparently after that episode something like seventy thousand New York women rushed out to get Brazilians.
It got me thinking, not so much about Sex and the City and the seventy thousand women, but about my own little bush.
Just the other night my difficult friend had said:
Violet. I quite like a landing strip. Do that for me. Will you?
I’ll think about it, I’d replied. When what I’d really wanted to say was:
I already have a fucking landing strip you dumb fuck cunt.
But I knew he was thinking about oral and some men do prefer it when you’re less hairy, dumb fuck cunts again, but hey, I get it.
Maybe, I said. I’ll surprise you.
I closed my computer. Removed my clothes. Stood in front of the mirror and admired myself.
It’s true. My difficult friend may not be such a dumb fuck cunt after all.
It’s not much of a landing strip.
In fact, it may not be a landing strip at all.
But actually, I quite like it.
I got turned on, looking at it. I touched myself. Lay down on my bed. Naked.
Hands between my legs.
And now I’m going to surprise my friend.
I’ve called him to come over.
I don’t have a landing strip.
But I have twirled my pubic hair into the shape of a scorpion.
I think it looks fabulous this way.
And I’m quite sure he’ll be surprised.
pic: not mine.