An un-tramelled knicker wig doesn't necessarily equal feminism
Dear Miss Quiver
My new boyfriend has started hinting that he would like me to grow a “big 70s bush”. I know Caitlin Moran says it’s cool, but I’ve got used to my short back and sides and worry about the repercussions of a fulsome pant beard (I’m a keen swimmer).
Oh Mary! When I get questions like this I want to throw my Susan Sontag biography into the air and bellow from the rooftops, ‘OH GREAT, ANOTHER BODY HAIR QUESTIONNNN!’ (Only joshing, readers). I really do want to bellow from the rooftops ‘ISN’T POST-FEMINISM JOLLYYYY!’
Because, Mary, there was a time that we, free-thinking women of the intellectual classes, had to spend quite a lot of time ruminating deeply on our pudenda-preferences and our politics and whether the twain could meet. Happily now, most fun people realise that while pornificent baldness does not necessarily equal prettiness, neither does an un-tramelled knicker wig necessarily equal feminism. What I am saying is in our enlightened age, feminists can fully engage with tippy topiary. Or not. As they wish. It’s all rather fun.
Anyway, how lovely that your boyfriend doesn’t want you to waste half your life obfusicating your meaning. I suppose the real question here is whether there is any room for compromise between your desire for shortened whatnot and your boyfriend’s fascination with a voluminous scatterbasket. I always find it’s rather fun to give these interesting sexual preferences a whirl, just to see, so what about a longline swimsuit?
Alternatively, could you possibly resolve to - as I believe they say in nautical circles - grow out the main deck and merely clear the captain’s quarters? Or if neither of those options works for you, you could let him know very firmly, that you prefer a barefaced lie.
If he can’t get to grips with it, he’s quite simply not the mancake for you.
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