friend of mine has a 9-year-old daughter named Fiona who is going through a
stage where she draws naked people. This somewhat odd hobby isn't so strange in
her community. Both her parents are accomplished artists, and she lives in a
brownstone in Brooklyn with other artist families. What I love about Fiona's
drawings are the way in which she draws women: tiny breasts that look like
eggs over easy, and lush, bountiful pubic hair bushes that remind me of the
Whomping Willow tree in the Harry Potter series.
when I went to see my aesthetician for an eyebrow wax two days before my son's
due date and she asked, "Do you want your pre-birth wax?" I became very sad for
womankind. It turned out she'd just given a Brazilian to a woman who, like me, was
due any day. Apparently this person wanted to "look good down there" during
labor. If I could have met her that day I would have told her not to worry,
that she'd be on all fours and in pain soon enough.
Doctors and nurses couldn't give a hoot what your vagina looks like.
preggies, it's time to let go. After giving birth twice, I can assure you:
Doctors and nurses couldn't give a hoot what your vagina looks like. They see
hundreds of naked people a day, and will do their jobs whether your pubic hair is shaved
into a triangle or bedazzled with a pink crystal. And isn't the discomfort of
pregnancy and the inevitable conclusion—a painful delivery—enough? Must we
also throw in a waxing, which leaves our skin the shade of Jennifer Aniston's
think the achingly funny feminist Caitlin Moran said it best in her recent
bestseller How to Be a Woman, "I
can't believe it is costing us money now to have a vagina." All this is not to
say that I don't believe in primping during pregnancy. There's no need to scare the
children away at the town pool with Animal from The Muppets peeking out the
sides of their bathing suit.
A simple shave or trim with blunt tip
scissors can do wonders. And there are plenty of fun spa treatments a mom-to-be
can enjoy with her bump. I had a lovely prenatal massage which relaxed me to
the point of falling asleep. Pedicures, where someone rubs your feet and you
catch up on the latest gossip in the celebrity rags can be heaven. But gripping
the side of a table, spread-eagled and sweating while a stranger rips your hair
out? Oh, hell no.