Bring Back (da) Bush

by Neli

When I was asked by my good friend Jason Lippy if there was anything that I wanted to “sound off” about in his blog, I immediately jumped at the opportunity to get something off my chest that has been bothering me for some time:

What is the deal with shaved vaginas?

Not to sound too much like my grandfather recounting his storming the beaches of Normandy, but in my younger day, half of the battle was hacking your way through the “forbidden forest” in order to get to the holy grail. The first feel of those beautiful black curlies let a young man know that all of his empty talk, and hollow promises were finally paying off. Who hasn’t popped a cold one and told the timeless tale of an adolescent man, his right index finger and a handful of strays. It is almost cathartic just recalling it.

But today’s woman has chosen to deny a generation of young men the right of passage of caressing the carpet, instead choosing to take a razor to their beautiful manes, leaving no thing but the disfigured anatomy remaining. I, having personally seen a completely bare vagina, (once in a magazine), cannot for the life of me understand the attraction. It resembles a cross between a tiny marsupial at birth and piece of already chewed Big League chewing gum. It was Darwinism at it’s best providing the necessary camouflage to hide the hideousness of the actual attraction.

When bush was big, it was a catalyst for individuality. Women could define who they were by the way they chose to groom themselves. There was the Three Iron Divot (athletic), the Adolph Hitler (repressive\ tyrianist), the Bermuda Triangle (a lost soul), the Buckwheat (careless and free) and the Sasquatch (self explanatory). A man knew instantly whom he was dealing with simply by flossing.

But today the rules have changed with the simple swipe of a two dollar Venus Gillette.

NOT ON MY WATCH.

I say bring back bush. Make the money shot worth something again. Make white panties worth seeing through again.

Not to resurrect Simon and Garfunkle, but coo coo achoo Mrs. Robinson, a nation turns it’s lonely eyes to you….and your muff. I say put down the razors; step away from the Nair. Do not deface that beautiful honey-hole any longer. Embrace your pubes. Take a stand, allow that gorgeous natural-grass to grow on the infield, and yell to the high heavens PLAY BALL.