Brazilian? waxing? I had no idea it was a Brazilian thing. Well, whatever. My barber shop advertized it in the front window, so I asked the quiet Chinese lady who usually does my remaining hair (I am mostly bald), what is waxing? She adopted a very confidential tone and with a great deal of embarassment indicated what it was, while assuring me they only did everything but the pubic area. It was difficult not laugh at her struggles with the subject. It is very popular around here.
Let's see, how to approach this. Anybody familiar with what I call `fur-burn'? It's like an Indian burn on the arm, except the lips and or the sides of the penis get raw from the friction of slamming into each other. Who gets the burn depends on the relative courseness of their partner, in relation to themselves. Personally, I was usually the `victim' of this bizarre malady since I have a thin and evidently soft pubic hair, while all my girlfriends and ex-wife were narly and hairy mothers. Indirectly it was my fault since I was attracted to the southern Mediterraenian or course Nordic look and both seemed to have giant patches of different colors. Come to think of it, they all had more hair than I did. I guess the attraction of opposites must have worked both ways, if you follow. So after a few weeks of putting up with this, I would delicately brouch the subject...
Gee, dear, how about we trim a little off? I would show my sores as encouragement.
I once had a Jewish girlfriend who had a little mustache and a furry butt. In their strange way, these were delicious. But the burn was terrible. I was embarassed to ask this favor, but to my surprize she had no objection and made no protest at all.
I learned very earily that trims were no hassel, especially to keep the damned rubbers from pulling out whole patches of hair and skin. But shaving was a real no-no and led to weeks of agony as the stubble was extremely harsh and took a long time to grow long enough to get back to `normal'.
They didn't have waxing in those days, so we had to resort to other methods. A cigerette lighter seemed to work, but you had to be careful you didn't set the whole forrest on fire. The nice thing about burning it off is that the ends were blunt and there were no `sharp' edges like those made with cutting. Although, using a big comb to block the stunning explosion of flame was a bit un-nerving. Trust me honey, I've done this before... (Imagine a nervous Richard Pyor routine with a match book.)
Ah, those were the days. How nice it is to remember these sillinesses from forty years ago back in the 60s when experimentation was all the rage and every body was too broke and too repulsed by any commerical answer to these obscure human problems.
I do have a theory as to why Republicans prefer the on-top position for women. Their dicks are too short, so naturally in order to acheive sufficient penetration, they need the unseemly squat on top. And it follows that many Democrats and certainly all radicals have sufficient magnitude to get all the penetration they need doggy style, perhaps even leaning back a little to watch for themselves. Naughty boys! And perhaps most Republican men prefer sex with Democratic women, which if you follow the controlling metaphors leads to the conclusion that because of their insufficient length, they must cede control to their ladies who get to watch from on high, as it were.
But going back even further, more or less to illustrate that these are some of the most basic problems of human history.
I was once upon a time, sitting in my favorite woven bamboo chair covered in a course wool blanket, in our apartment in Guadalajara while my stepfather and his best buddy were discussing crabs. They were too drunk to realize my nine year old mind was growing by leaps and bounds and hung on every word. They both had crabs and were afraid to have sex with their respective wives until they cured themselves. They drank some more tequila and convinced themselves that turpentine was the magic formula. They were both art students (so-called) going to the University of Guadalajara on the GI bill and so turpintine was prevalent. They foolishly decided that the preferred medical approach was to shave themselves first so as to expose the skin and the crab egg sites, and then swab themselves down with paint rags loaded with turps.
They left the living room and I was forbidden to follow and watch. In fact, I was commanded to stay in my chair and do nothing. A short time later I heard the screams of pain and both my stepfather and his buddy came out of the our small bathroom running to the kichen and outside porch to hose themselves off with water from an tap on the back porch. They were butt naked. Whatever they did to themselves was so mysterious and funny all I could to do was curl up in my chair and snicker, hoping they didn't hear me and come in and beat me half to death.
When I think about this scene, I am so convulsed with laughter I can barely breath.
I am sixty-four now, and they were somewhere in their late twenties, and I still get a tremendous kick out of this absurd scene. They were kids, and fucking idiots. Oh, let's shave and pour turpentine on our dicks. Sure that'll work...
No wonder the US bourgoisie never excepted me as a member of its professional class.
CG