Added: Panagiota Burroughs - Date: 10.03.2022 23:34 - Views: 17537 - Clicks: 2975
This story was written by Alex Alexander and republished with permission from YourTango. I have only three words about waxing down there: F—k that s—t. The thing about being an ethnic girl is you know really early on that bikinis are not for you. Before I even figured out what an underwire was, my legs, pits, and crotch sprouted dense, thick, black hair.
Lucky me, I was blessed with an abundance of body hair AND sensitive skin. Nair made me break out. Shaving my bikini line left me with a swathe of ingrown hairs every time.
And don't even get me started on waxing. The idea of being totally hairless doesn't really work when your body hair fights back. And mine? It wasn't going down without a fight. So before I was even out of my teens, I did the only thing I could: I gave up. I let my lady garden grow. And grow. My pubic hair starts with a happy trail at my navel, covers my crotch, and swarms all over my inner thighs. You will never see me in a bathing suit without a pair of shorts on top. I might be okay with the hair living there, but nobody should have to see that. Nobody except my husbandthat is. Back when I was dating, I was always very cautious about how and when I let my lovers see me naked.
I usually waited until after we'd slept together a few times, in the dark, so before they could be shocked or grossed out by my ample bush they'd already decided they liked it. My husband was no exception. Usually the guys would pretty much ignore it. But my husband was a different story. The first time he actually saw me naked he was all about it.
It took about five seconds for him to shove his face down there and start going to town.
I'm not saying you should marry the first guy who thinks you're so hot down there, but that's pretty much what I did. Maybe it's because he's always been a beard guy, so having hair around his mouth didn't bother him at all. Maybe it's because he just thought I was so hot that any part of me was hot by association. Or maybe it's because body hair isn't actually a big deal.
Whatever the case, he was into it. I love that I don't have to endure the torture of making my crotch somehow socially acceptable. I love that as far as he's concerned, all my body parts —hairy or otherwise—are parts of me, and that's what he likes best. Sometimes we watch porn together, and when there's a close-up of a totally bald vagina we both get a little grossed out. I'm happy I stopped trying to fight the forest in my pants. I'm even happier that my husband is more into it than I am. I'm one lucky, furry lady. Weight Loss.
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