Pruning My Thatch: An Epic Saga

Vaginal pruning is an actual thing. Women no longer harbour their 70’s style muff these days. It’s much more acceptable to keep your badger bald. There are so many options now to keep your ninny looking sleek. However, none of which are glamorous or easily obtained to keep your nether regions in peak condition.

I’m flat out shaving my legs. So when it comes to my fanny, I have to admit going native is a great option for me. I dislike the hair, but being too lazy to trim or an inability to shower without children, means some pre warning is required if a sexual encounter is to occur. I can’t just decide on a quick nookie.

Unless of course my partner is up for being sack stabbed with the centimetre long needles arising in wait of the next time I can be fucked to make an effort to tidy shit up down there.

I’ve tried so many treatments to get rid of pubic hair and not one of them suits me. I went through a stage of intense waxing. But, truly found it to be a completely fucked experience.

Aside from having another women jam half of your undies into your vagina crack; the pain is terrible.

I don’t know about anyone else but the top lip of my vagina is so sensitive. Not only did the tearing of hairs straight from their root bring tears to my eyes.

The entire ordeal near on ended with me punching the poor women in the face.

So in light of my low pain threshold, I’ve had to find alternative methods. I mean; we all need to ensure the veejayjay stays tidy to a degree.

The downside for me is that my mother is Italian. Instead of getting the beautiful sun-kissed skin, big boobs and dark features; the only European gene I received is the hairiest muff with the coarsest hair this side of the equator.

I often shave. But, let’s be honest. If you’re like me, the times between pruning can be a while. This in turn means at least an hour-long shower to get things back in order. In an attempt to rid myself of the horrid pubes, I have to contort my body into positions similar to those from yoga class. I never get all the hair and a little mole placed awkwardly between my butt and my vagina means I risk cutting the thing clean off and bleeding to death in attempt to make my fanny look a little bit spesh (or possibly just not neglected).

So; Veet it is. Again though, my ancestral heritage fails me. Veet does sell hair removal cream for sensitive areas. However; my pubic hair is so damn tough and immune to anything not containing corrosives close to actual acid proportions. So, I have improvised.

I still use Veet, but I employ the stronger more masculine kind. ‘Veet Coarse Hair for Men’.

Yep you read it right. I slather that shit on with a fucking trowel and leave it. Not for the recommended 6 minutes they indicate as being sufficient. It’s on for the full 10 minutes allowable before burning off the first 3 layers of my skin. Even then it never rids my Map of Tassie entirely of all the hair. I then have to go about shaving the bits that refuse to dissolve under the intense chemical concoction just administered.

I get out of the shower clean as a whistle and smooth as silk. Moisturise and ready for action. Action has to be taken quickly though.

Apparently I have to keep this up on a regular basis. What the actual fuck! For my vag to look consistently acceptable this has to occur often. I don’t consistently do much of anything. Accept consistently not being consistent. Oh the irony.

Yes; I’ve thought about laser hair removal. But, the likelihood of me actually attending the 6 appointments required, is about as likely as me not having a drink tonight. Hahahahahahaha

Anyway, I figure the length of time taken between rocking out my 70’s style muff and a slimline sleek ninny means it’s almost a new vagina every time I prune.

It’s a bit like my relationship with makeup. I’m sure nowhere near as many people would appreciate how different I look from the usual sleep wrinkles and bed hair, if I wore it daily. I like to surprise people like that, you know! It’s just who I am.

So, for all the women out there currently adorning their vagina’s native state, be proud. I mean; come summer

I’m not keen on seeing it grow out half way down your leg. But in all seriousness, embrace it. Sometimes it’s liberating to grow out your muff. Then to the women who keep that shit under control. I salute you. The effort hasn’t gone unnoticed. I aspire to one day have the time and motivation to ‘consistently’ keep my vagina tidy.

In the meantime intermittent pruning will have to suffice.

Peace Out, Sari

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