Netherworld

hardcore laser hair removal :-)

You know what, kraken-lovers, as much as I adore each and every one of you there are times when you test me more than any kraken should be tested. While your snippets of info and cockwomble alerts give me much to blog about they also leave me bereft of hope for humanity. Such is the information that has been passed to me by glorious journalist and esteemed bad-ass @alanburkittgray. Gird yourselves. It involves muffs.

See, this week the Huffington Post graced the nation with news of such import that I can’t believe it hasn’t knocked a decomposing Thatcher off the headlines. Indeed, Nads (hair removal company, not manufacturer of decorative knackersacks) has surveyed 1000 men to find out what their preferred minge-mat looks like.

It discovered that 43 per cent of blokes like a woman’s pubic hair to resemble a “Bermuda triangle”, except without the dead sailors I assume. 17 percent said they enjoyed a “landing strip”, 15 per cent liked to lunge at a heart shape and a mere 12 per cent said they liked a Brazilian, otherwise known as Barbie’s mud flaps.

What in the actual fuck is going on? You mean that instead of surveying women about how they want their flanges to look, Nads surveyed men? Thanks Nads. There I was thinking that the decorative effect of my love tunnel should be about what I, as owner of said love tunnel, want but no. Instead I should be rushing to the nearest waxing salon before demanding a bush that’ll attract the greatest percentage of waggling penises, a bit like divining rods searching out an underground cavern. Just what women need when it comes to intimate topiary: male approval.

Worse, how this was presented by the HuffPo made me want to pour hot piss into my brain via a burr hole that I’d fashioned in my skull with a set of vole dentures. The article contained such phrases as, “That guy might not care as much about your bikini line as you thought. Or he does care, but a full-on Brazilian wax might not be necessary”. Eh? Necessary? What so you mean that next time I nip out to the salon I should be asking Conjugal Kraken how he’d like me to come back? He’d probably say via China.

Thing is, not a word of this sagging ballbag of information is of any use to women even though it’s dressed up like it deserves the News at Ten bongs. Seriously, women are capable of deciding how they want their netherparts to look without the go-ahead from a nebulous and anonymous group of men. If it’s all the same to you, Nads, I’ll decide if I want a bald clunge or a full Gremlin, not my bloody husband.

So perhaps Nads would like to even things out by asking 1000 women whether their men should have a penis enlargement. Or perhaps it’d like to ask 1000 women whet they’d say to a partner who demanded that they pour scalding wax over several thousand nerve endings. I bloody well know what I’d say and it wouldn’t be “Ow!”.

Which means I really don’t give a shit about what men want from a woman’s undergrowth. All I know is what I want and that doesn’t include finding amongst said undergrowth a bloke who demands I take my foof off to design school. If he wants a landing strip I’ll be more than happy to dive him to the airport. And yeah, it’ll be terminal.

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2 Responses to Netherworld

  1. Can'tThinkofanAvatar says:

    Men! Look and be how you want to be!
    Women! Look and be how men want you to be!

    What is it about advertising (well, the world in general) that still has a problem with acknowledging women’s autonomy over their own bodies?! Haven’t we done enough by now to assert that women are not automatically and solely objects for men to look at and play with? That we might have other things to think about and want more from our lives? Why is it repeatedly reinforced that the primary occupation of our minds, finances and time should be on how to look good according to other people?

    Personal anecdote: In a former job, I was called aside by a manager and told-off for ‘letting myself go’ because I hadn’t bothered to straighten my hair for two weeks (reasons being 1. it takes about an hour each time and I have a life, 2. my hair was becoming quite brittle and frazzled and needed to recover, and 3. it was mid-summer and the humidity made it go mental anyway). This was an office full of married men who rarely bothered to shave and came into work in tracksuits and t-shirts. It wasn’t customer-facing and I was damn good at my actual job anyway. It blew my mind that, firstly, that kind of comment could ever be considered appropriate, especially as I wasn’t dealing with customers/clients face-to-face, secondly, why did anyone care – they were all married; why did my appearance matter, and, finally, the double-standard of it. I am a little ashamed to say that I laughed in my manager’s face, but it is difficiult to take a criticism of your professional appearance seriously when it comes from a senior colleague with week-old-stubble and a beer gut hunging over an elasticated waistband, barely contained by a “witty” holiday t-shirt. He didn’t understand why, even after I explained it.

  2. Imelda Evans says:

    Hear, hear and with a side order of ‘right on’! I suppose this would be a bad time to tell you about the plastic surgeons who will ‘tidy up’ your labia so they are more ‘aesthetically pleasing’. I’m sorry to do it to you, but I saw that doco a while ago and I can’t get the shock, anger and weepiness out of my head…

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