I’m back! I thought I’d dive back into my blogging with a little story … so you can get to know the person behind the pinup a little better!
So rewind some years… quite a few actually … to 20 year old me. On this night, I am starting my first shift as a bikini cage dancer at the Auckland institution of bland sleaze … Showgirls. I am escorted through the smoke machine fog, flashing lights, mirrors and poles to “Backstage”. In my head, I picture something like this…
I am not prepared for the tiny, fluorescent lit space, where battered utilitarian lockers cover 2 of the walls, and one wide mirror with a bench below is shared by a horde of mostly naked women competing for space. I’m boggled by the boobs, the tans, the long and perfectly straight hair and what seems to be the dress code – teeny tiny bits of glittery lycra. My new “sexy” bikini and lingerie set suddenly seem woefully inadequate, and comprised of much too much fabric.
I am not quite sure where to stand without gawping, or getting in the way. Some kind soul takes pity on my obvious virginal status and asks what I have brought along to wear. Seeing my offerings, she directs me to a breathtakingly exotic beauty, who it seems brings bikinis back from her native Brazil to sell to other dancers. Fishing all manner of tiny slips of nothing out of one of the lockers, she tosses me something tiny and red. I am not quite sure which is the front and which is the back of the bottoms bit. Seeing my hesitation, Brazilian Beauty assists me. First, I remove my knickers.
Which is when I realise… one of these things is not like the other. Oh god. In my sensory overload, how can I have missed that not one of these women have one iota of a lady garden?? For the first time in my life, I am mortified by my own pubic hair. I am not a very hairy person, I have never really given much consideration to landscaping the region. Brazilian Beauty eyes my now exposed bush with horror… “So… natural!!”. Natural… oh god… that’s bad, right? Because I am, at this point, all natural. No fake tan, hair extensions, fake nails, boobs and my terrible embarrassing… bush. Brazilian Beauty puts the bottoms on me. In case you ever need to wear a bikini bottom like this, here is the trick. Tie the sides and then pull the small amount of fabric at the back RIGHT UP YOUR BUM CRACK. Then you can pull it back out a little, so it looks like it’s hiding in your bum. Perfect. The matching top to this set is pretty much 2 tiny nipple sized fabric attached with bits of string.
The next day after my night of bush shaming… I book my very first Brazilian wax. At some walk up Asian beauty salon off Queen St. I am terribly eager to rid myself of my lady shame. I am willing to part with cash dollars for a stranger to inflict painful torture on my nether regions. A young and attractive Asian woman directs me to a room and a wobbly massage table and happily instructs me to take off everything from the waist down and put my knees up and apart. The room looks like a old office cubicle. I start to wonder if this was something I should have been a bit less budget conscious about. Too late now.
Young Woman looks under the towel I have draped across my exposed parts and makes a noise. It’s not a good noise. It’s somewhere between a grunt and an exclamation. It is definitely not a noise you want to hear when someone is inspecting your lady garden. She leaves the room. I can not deny I am Worried. She returns with an Older Woman. Who proceeds to also look under my towel and begin pointing and speaking animatedly in a language that is Not English. Then the two of them start yabbering away. I am Definitely Concerned now. Young Woman smiles. Older Woman exits. Wax preparations ensue. Possibly my memory has embellished the moment… but I am certain she almost looks gleeful as she applies hot wax and announces “ONE, TWO, TREEEE!” …
And so began 10 years of assault on my poor under valued lady garden. Shaving, plucking, waxing … ingrown hairs and itching. Putting concealer on MY DOWN THERE to hide its suffering and render it fit for wearing teeny tiny things I thought of as underpants. A few years back, I’d had enough. I asked myself WHY??? This was not even something I had questioned during my earlier hippy phase, when I used damp rocks as deodorant and didn’t eat anything that didn’t grow on a tree or have dirt on it.
Why indeed? So I reclaimed my lady garden. And I’ve never felt more comfortable. Unrelated, but around the same time, I began wearing pinup and vintage style “full time”, and discovered the bliss of big nana knickers. But that folks, is another post 🙂
So whether you embrace a full Brazilian and love it (or a Californian, or a Texan) or enjoy having a homage to Linda Lovelace… you own it baby! Whether your carpet matches your curtains, or you prefer a bare floor. Loving yourself means loving ALL of yourself, and that includes your beautiful lady parts ♥
Love, Lorelei Louise xx