The hopeful, helpful, empowering guide for when you don't feel like having sex

To shave or not to shave? That is the question.

To shave or not to shave? That is the question.
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The boyf is coming home soon, and I’m sat here pondering my hairy legs. And fanny. And trying to decide what to do.

I’m caught in a feminist dilemma:

To shave, or not to shave? That is the question.

I’m stuck into two minds. On the one hand:


It takes time.

Sometimes it hurts.

The hair sticks to the side of the bathtub and the boy gets really anal about cleaning up after my shearing session.

AND I hate having my hairy leg held high and wobbling on the other, desperately trying to twist into a pretzel to get my razor round next to my bumhole.

It’s a literal pain in the arse.

But most importantly, it pisses me off that we women are expected to be hair free to fit into societal ideas about beauty and sexiness.

Shaved fannies came from porn for fucks sake- the pornography industry dictates what hairstyle our most intimate areas have! It’s madness.


I also feel pretty sexy when I’m smooth.

So how, as a feminist, do I consolidate those two ideas? I don’t want to fit into the patriarchal bullshit idea of what is sexy and what a woman should look like. But, at some level, I’ve also bought into that idea and I feel more up for sex when I’m hair-free. Therefore, my libido is directly caught up with how much of a bush is between my legs.

It’s a tough one to get my head around and satisfy both my sexual well-being and my political beliefs. Who’d have thought my pubic hair could be such a site of discord and strife!

My current solution is to just shave when I feel like I want to have sex. My sexual need is then greater than my political feminist need. And the rest of the time, probably the majority of the time TBF, I’m hairy and happily radical in my views.

It’s not ideal to be honest, but I’m navigating being a feminist and being a realist. It’s hard work.

The good thing is the boyf doesn’t seem to mind either way. He just likes a surprise, so whether it’s a newly plucked chicken staring him in the face or a strip of shin that looks like a Mexican wrestlers chest hair, he’s happy. I think.

Little pearls- do you have this dilemma? And if so, how do you resolve it?

Lots of love,

Mother Pearl



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