Seventies Bush

When I was a girl I didn't realise that women had pubic hair. I'd seen a lot of nude girls but they'd all been in improving gallery paintings and pubic hair in classical art is as rare as a clitoris in Sudan. I read that John Ruskin laboured under a similar misapprehension and was so shocked by his wife's rich jungle of hair on his wedding night that he swore himself to celibacy. Did artists simply not paint the hair they saw? Michaelangelos's 'women' are middle weight boxers with breasts so anything is possible to the blind male eye. Were the models prostitutes who shaved themselves to rid themselves of pubic lice? Or did women in the past shave as we shave and wax now. Sexual intercourse did not begin in 1963 whatever we pretend to think now. Madonna was not the first woman to have a baby. One would have thought that prudery would have dictated an ample bush, rather than its removal. An unshaven girl is a blank, her flower mysterious, her fruit hidden in the darkest of thorny thickets. A waxed or shaven girl has a clitoris like John Holmes.

Porn from the past is so revealing, be it chubby flappers frozen in the nineteen twenties or 70's Farrah Fawcett lookalikes, all teeth and big hair, posing in the Hotel California sun. The fads and fashions date us like carbon 14 and our lack of pubic hair will make us as girls of the noughties long after mobile phones and ipods are forgotten. Frankly I'm glad pubic hair has become socially unacceptable. Quite how anybody got born before 1998 is a complete mystery to me. Bearded clams are not my style, although possibly marginally preferable to designer stubble.

We're always told that town centres are indistinguishable now, and there is truth in that, but a big change over time, from even five years ago, is the proliferation of 'bikini waxers' now. New professions proliferate as old ones day, the stage coach driver, the cooper and the trades union official are gone, the girl who does your Brazilian has a job for life now. How unthinkable this would be to our mother's generation, that you would bare yourself to the raw pain and humiliation of the wax strip except just before childbirth must amaze and appall them and yet here we are. How does this happen? How can 'we'll wax your twat here' signs now be socially acceptable but cigarettes are surrounded by broken glass and barbed wire. It can only be the influence of the internet. As soon as every man, and let's be honest every woman, sated themselves with internet porn - where pubic hair is as rare as a Chinese river dolphin - then the humble pube's days in real life were numbered.

I love being waxed. I love the ritual of it. I, like everyone, have my favourite as this is not a task to offer strangers. Anyone can cut my hair or flip my burger, but only one girl can wax my glistening cunt. I spurn the g string of course, I can't stand the pretend modesty of some woman staring everywhere except what's right in front of her. I lie naked on the table and I don't care she knows how turned on I am. I'd have it all lasered, so it never grew back, but for missing this pleasure of semi public pain.

I like a girl with a landing strip, but her labia must be smooth as a baby's. It's not infantalising her, anything but. A shaven girl shows her labia and her clitoris in its full glory. It is the girl with pubic hair who advertises her solitude, her modesty, while the waxed girl proudly proclaims her preparation for her lover.

Every girl is different there of course, as different as faces and not all are beautiful. The trend for 'labiaplasty' is as hateful as any cosmetic surgery, but I want to see what you've got down there honey. I want to lick it and kiss it and love it, I want to 'Aussie kiss' you and I'll do it all night, so the least you can do down there is shave it.