I can tell you the exact moment that body hair became an issue in my life. I was in seventh grade, and it was Picture Day. As was the trend in the mid 90s, I wore a short dress with Mary Jane shoes, a fashion statement that was both a nod to childhood and yet ironically sex kitten. I wore my long brown hair mostly down, and I made sure to remove my glasses for the picture; my mother was convinced that I would not be ready for contact lenses until I had my first period, and my body showed no signs of impending womanhood. Overall, though, I was feeling pretty cute — up until the moment that a boy sitting at the cafeteria table across from mine called over to me. The words he said weren’t memorable, but I can’t forget the meaning and the feeling of shame that washed over me. He was pointing and commenting on my dark, long leg hair.
I had noticed that I was a hairy girl many times before, but my mom also didn’t think I was old enough to shave yet, and I hadn’t thought it was necessary to push the issue, until that moment in the cafeteria. I went home and stole her razor immediately that afternoon. I still hate that my first motivation to shave was not my own, but rather at the hands of a middle school asshole who probably never thought about me or my early pubescent legs again.
My hair removal journey continued with a steady shaving regimen for years thereafter. At least every other day, I would shave my legs and my armpits. My pubes grew in curly and dark, and once in awhile I would trim the hair so that it wouldn’t poke out the sides of my bathing suit. When one of my good guy friends and I were talking about fooling around one day, he asked me if I would mind shaving my vulva beforehand. He was very amused by my answer — “Sure, that shouldn’t take too long.”
I didn’t end up fooling around with him, but I did experiment with shaving and found that it was ideal for summer swim fashions, but difficult to maintain. When Jack and I started dating in high school, I would often groom myself for him, trying out different hairstyles ranging from full on fluff to the landing strip to fully shaven. Being a man who truly appreciates and values women’s bodies, Jack appreciated the variety.
I got my first Brazilian wax for my honeymoon. I wanted a perfect hairless lower body, so waxing seemed ideal at that point. I wasn’t shy about showing my intimate areas, so that was no hurdle to get over. I’ve never been worried about professionals seeing my body parts; it’s their job and I’m not especially unique, at least to my knowledge. Jack was ecstatic about a week with no razor burn or upkeep, and he loved how clean it was from front to back — did you know that they get that area between your butt cheeks, too? Wonderful.
Jack was ecstatic about a week with no razor burn or upkeep, and he loved how clean it was from front to back — did you know that they get that area between your butt cheeks, too? Wonderful.
For about the first decade of our marriage I was a waxed girl for all special occasions, from vacations to birthing babies. If my vulva was to be out in the open air for any extended period of time, it was taken to the waxing studio first.
Waxing is not a pain-free experience. I am not sure that I ever got used to the time or pain involved, and I have been told that I have quite a high pain tolerance. When I went for waxes, I would have the full service — legs, Brazilian, and underarms. I would strip down into mostly just a camisole and lay upon the white bedding with a towel draped loosely on my lap, until the waxing technician came in and proceeded to put hot wax on my body, followed by a strip of cloth, and then ripped the whole shebang off in one pain-tastic swoop. I didn’t scream a la Steve Carell, but there were a few times that I wanted to. Instead, I would sweat from head to toe, including the delicate area in between my legs that was also to be subjected to the torture.
Waxing was worth the pain and discomfort for a time. It was better than shaving in that it would actually last for more than twelve hours, and it would thin the hair growth over time so that the waxes got slightly less painful, as long as I kept it up. I would also find that I still had to shave every couple days for any missed hairs, but it was quick and less likely to cause the dreaded razor burn. When I was pregnant, bending over to shave was equally inconvenient and dangerous, so waxing became my norm.
However, waxing was not just painful — it was a pain, too. I had to grow out my hair for at least two weeks between waxes. So not only was I stuck wearing maxi skirts or pants when it was warm outside, I was also a hairy beast when climbing into bed next to my husband — not a turn on for either of us. It was also expensive; I would spend well over $100 for my legs/Brazilian/underarm treatment, plus the investment of time. The whole treatment took about an hour in total, and then I would leave with slightly puffy and irritated skin that took a day or two to calm down. When I tried to circumnavigate some of these issues by waxing with at home kits, I would either make a huge mess or miraculously only remove skin and no hair. It was quite the conundrum.
Laser hair removal had been a dream of mine since discovering its existence.
Laser hair removal had been a dream of mine since discovering its existence. Unfortunately for my perpetually pregnant self, it is not ideal to have it done until you are finished having babies, since the hormone fluxuations can cancel out all the glorious benefits. Finally, about twelve years after my first wax and over two decades after getting mocked for my long leg hair in the cafeteria, I embarked on laser hair removal.
Naturally, I had a Groupon. Laser hair removal costs an atrocious amount at full price, especially for a middle class Midwestern woman who spends three quarters of the year wearing pants. I decided to get the most bang for my buck and begin with my lower legs and armpits. Most packages around my area are for six treatments, every five weeks or so, plus a “touch up” treatment to be used either another five weeks following the sixth treatment or, if you’re lucky and you take really well to lasering, the following year, to remind your hair follicles that they’re not needed.
Having light skin and dark hair typically sucks when it comes to unwanted body hair, but this is the holy grail situation for getting lasered. Laser hair removal works best on dark, coarse hair on light skin — it needs the contrast. Still, hair is a persistent little fucker, and I needed to purchase another package of six plus one treatments for my legs to actually not have to shave them on a regular basis. It’s quite common for lasering to take this many treatments before it sets in.
Since I was already going in every five weeks, and since my legs hadn’t been completely fried by the previous set of treatments, I figured…why not add in the Brazilian, too? I was done with shaving and waxing — ingrown hairs and razor burns were now a thing of the past on my legs and underarms, and I was loving it. Jack and I share our money and always run big purchases by each other first; this one required zero convincing.
Legs and underarms are pretty straightforward — no hair is the style there. But a Brazilian? Oh, the options! Being a researcher, I’m not content to simply go with my gut until I review all the possibilities. So off I went to Google, checking out vulva hairstyles.
I knew that I wanted what’s considered a Brazilian and not just the bikini area. The bikini treatments zap your thighs and cut in a little to the upper part of the vulva, in the front of your pelvic bone, but they don’t get the perineum, between the butt cheeks, or around the labia. Brazilians do. Once I started to go Brazilian, I never wanted to go back to…well, Midwestern suburban mom of four.
The remaining question was, what to do in the front, the part that you see when I’m standing naked in front of the mirror, or my husband, or a crowd of people at a nude beach playing pool volleyball.
The remaining question was, what to do in the front, the part that you see when I’m standing naked in front of the mirror, or my husband, or a crowd of people at a nude beach playing pool volleyball? It was time to choose my hairstyle, much as we choose how we like to style the hair on our heads.
Typically, being totally bald is what most salons considered a “full Brazilian.” From my previous removal experiences, I knew that I didn’t want to be completely bald down there. Once in awhile it was nice, but every day? I’d feel like a little girl. I’m only about five foot tall and 110 pounds with small boobs, so I felt like I needed a dash of something womanly on my body to remind my viewers that I was indeed a full grown woman. Plus, the little area right above where my lips meet on the front of my pubic bone always hurts like a bitch to shave or wax, more than anywhere else on my body. No thanks.
The most popular alternative seemed to be, according to my Google image searches, a landing strip. Now, there are several variations on this style, but the one that is often called the landing strip or “French” wax is basically a long strip of hair right down the middle. On my body, this style always looked like a little too much hair; I preferred less up on top, so kind of a half landing strip. But what shape? Now it was time to experiment.
The great part about my hair growing at super speed is that I can try just about any style down there and it’ll grow out in a couple days, one week max. Basically, at this point I was debating the exact shape — straight lines on the side like a postage stamp or more of an angle, like an upside triangle? How wide, how tall? Jack didn’t mind watching me shave my hair into little shapes for a couple weeks and then staring at my body in the mirror, contemplating what was most flattering.
In the end, we decided on something more akin to a postage stamp, but all that nitpicking didn’t really matter. I got about twelve treatments in over a two year period before COVID shut down my favorite salon, and between treatments my hair would still grow back, albeit much more slowly than before. That’s the thing about laser hair treatments — they’re not permanent. While my lower leg hair only needs a real shaving about once every other week, I still touch up my lady parts weekly. It grows back with enough bounty that I can switch between the triangle and stamp at my leisure. Apparently the pubic area requires quite a few treatments before the hair growth really slows down on hairy women like myself.
Don’t let that deter you if you’re considering getting lasered yourself. I regret nothing, except that I didn’t get my Brazilian area done even sooner, with the first batch of lower leg treatments. Getting lasered is relatively painless, at least for me, especially when compared to waxing, razor burn, and the ingrown hairs that I got from both waxing and daily shaves. When I need to shave now, it lasts for at least a week and is smoother and prettier than it ever was with other removal methods.
I get complimented on my pussy ‘do all the time…or at least, whenever she’s out strutting her stuff. Obviously, after me, Jack sees it the most. To say that he loves my hairstyle would be an understatement. He brags about it to his friends, he inspects it gently when we make love, and he often rewards me with sexual favors that are definitely much more enticing for him to perform on smooth skin. When we go nude at our favorite Jamaican resorts, I get frequent, genuine admiration from both men and women; my little patch of hair is unique in the sea of either full ‘fros or bald babes. Even my laser aesthetician comments on how cute my little stamp is (and I’m guessing that my gyno has thought it, too). It really does compliment my petite frame, just as a great haircut compliments the shape of your face.
Even my laser aesthetician comments on how cute my little stamp is (and I’m guessing that my gyno has thought it, too). It really does compliment my petite frame, just as a great haircut compliments the shape of your face.
After the hair started to creep back a few months into COVID, and all hope for going back to the salon waned to nada, Jack and I did more research and purchased this at home laser hair treatment system: https://amzn.to/3mZSjs0. I was itching to continue touching up my previously lasered areas as well as extending the treatment to my thighs and arms. Jack wants to zap the hair on the back of his neck. I even got my knuckles with the little gun the other day…because who ever wants that hair there?
I’ll admit that we’ve been a little lazy about treating ourselves at home, but after several treatments are completed I’ll be sure to give you the full scoop on our new purchase. It’s about the same price as one salon package, but supposedly it will offer thousands of laser light zaps, though it’ll likely be less effective. I’ve only gone through two rounds of treatments with it at full strength, and found it a little too pain free — I wonder, is it doing anything? Jack yelped like a dog getting its tail stepped on at the first zap (at the lowest setting) and then continued to whine for the remainder of his two minutes of zapping. Men.
Body hair is a weird beast that I’ll be continuing to battle for most of my life, according to the women in my family tree. I love the hair that springs from the top of my head, but everywhere else, I prefer the smooth bliss of baldness…except for my stamp of womanhood. She can stay, proudly showcasing my dedication to not just hair removal, but also my style. I love my look down there, but I also love that I can mix things up if the mood strikes. Extending my style to my down-there hair makes me feel more confident and cute when I’m naked, which is good for a nudist sex-machine like me. Or at least, it can’t hurt…well, maybe just a little. But that’s how I know it’s working.
