I shrug, still kind of embarrassed but happy to know she is at least a little intrigued. “It’s not so bad. I tried shaving it all once before, and that didn’t work out so well. Takes forever, and the razor got gross. Waxing was at least immediate! No waiting!”
She laughs, raising an arm to shield her eyes.
“Are you saying you don’t shave? What have you got going on down there?”
She waves a hand in the air vaguely. “Oh, I just trim around the edges, you know. A little landscaping here and there. The bikini line, you know. Nothing so dramatic as you. Carson likes me like this, thank goodness.”
I shift on the lawn chair, relishing the delicious tickle of the bathing suit fabric rubbing against my naked nethers. Truthfully, it was pretty shocking to go completely bare. There were tears, not gonna lie. But now, I kind of like it. I am soft and velvety, like a stuffed animal.
One more surprising detail: I can feel myself all the time when I am walking around, rubbing against the cotton crotch of my panties. I’m aware of my sex all day in a way I wasn’t before. It is sort of a secret thrill.
“But what if your boyfriend liked you to wax?” I pester her. “Would you do it then?”
That should get her. Mona prides herself on being some kind of feminine savant. She truly believes she is the center of Southern Belle wisdom in regard to subjects of romance and Getting A Man. I know she thinks I am her personal project. Since my mother died when I was in preschool, she has taken it upon herself to fill in the huge gaps in my feminine education.
“Wow, you think up the weirdest stuff,” she scoffs. “Let’s hope I never have to find out! Anyway, he’s out of the state for a few more weeks, so I can let it go all jungly for a while. It’s nice to take a break.”
“You could try this while he’s gone! Get some experience in the matter,” I suggest, knowing full well she would never.
She snorts derisively. “Not unless I was abducted, roofied, bribed and threatened with bloodshed, Libby-love. No way.”
“Hey, it’s not so bad. I mean, it’s your body. You could do whatever you want.”
I realize I sound a little bit defensive, but after all, it’s a bit of a sensitive subject. Compared to liberal Seattle, North Carolina is pretty conservative. They have strong ideas about how women are supposed to act around their men. Maybe this was a little bit of an act of defiance. Or maybe I just liked it. Or maybe it isn’t anybody’s business!
“Whatever,” she sighs. “I just think you been watching too much porn, Libby. It has twisted your mind!”
“I have not!” I object loudly, then instantly drop my voice to just above a whisper. “I have not… I only watch, you know, a regular amount of porn.”
She twists her chin and looks me up and down slowly. “Just how much is a regular amount of porn, Libby?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug uncertainly. “Like, a regular amount. A normal amount. The amount that normal people watch.”
“Mmmm-hmmm. Or maybe you are some kind of freak.”
I start to say something, but then I remember she is just messing with me. She likes to get me riled up. Especially about these things where I am kind of sensitive. She thinks it is a hoot, is what she told me. Those are the words that she used: a hoot.
But it’s just a regular amount of porn, or at least I think so. I don’t know why it draws me… I just like it. Maybe it is my medical curiosity, like what drew me to nursing. Maybe it is just my per
sonality. But I enjoy watching the biology at work. I enjoy all of those specimens of different kinds of genitals, different sizes of everything, different places and angles and intensities for every kind of action. The variety just boggles the mind. If this is what real life is like, why shouldn’t I explore it?
I discovered it when I was twelve, wandering the internet like twelve-year-olds do. Instantly I knew I was seeing something I was not supposed to see, and simultaneously could not ever stop seeing.
But despite the societal warnings about how such images and videos would warp my brain, I have remained pretty buttoned-up. Only a single kiss from a single boy, junior year in high school. So if porn turns you into some kind of raging hormonal sex beast, maybe I am immune.
Though I do think about it kind of a lot.
And I did just wax myself completely clean.
So maybe not completely immune.
“Well, you can do whatever you want with your lady bits,” she sing-songs. “I’m happy with how fluffy mine are. Next time I see Carson, maybe I’ll shave it into a heart!”
“Oh, now who’s the freak?” I sass.
“Ha! Yeah, I guess. But it’s worth it, you know? All those little gestures of effort—they add up. They mean something.”
I’m sure she’s trying to teach me some great lesson, but it sounds like one of those phony messages in a greeting card. I am not sure what the big deal is.