I think we can all admit, even if we don’t think we have a vain bone in our body, that when we got our first gray hair, it was a bit alarming — even if we embraced it. It is a sign of aging that affects most of us on some level as we stare into the mirror wondering if we should pluck it or leave it.
Gray hair can start sprouting any time in your life depending on your hair color and your genes. Some see their first sign of gray in their eyebrows, some on their head.
Some of us like to color that shit (guilty) while others look like a stunning silver fox (I wish). But the real surprise for me came when I noticed gray hair on my nether regions. Gray freaking pubes! That was something I never ever could have been prepared for, like ever.
As a woman in her 40s, I’m fairly familiar with my body and check in with my honeypot on the regular, but just the other day while giving myself a wax, I saw something that left me more upset than the gray hair blossoming around my temples: My lady curtains are starting to show signs of aging too. I noticed a gray pubic hair, did a double-take, telling myself it was blonde, then realized I’ve never been a blonde — not down there anyway (the carpet does not match the drapes). Truth be told, I’m a little perturbed by this new visitor.
I know it’s ridiculous. It’s not like I walk around town wanting to show off my grass on the field. No one actually sees it, but surely, when your grass is starting to turn gray, it really reminds you of your age.
It shook me up a bit and made me realize how much I care about the appearance of my lady garden. I want it in tip-top shape. Should I pull out the weeds? Perhaps some color will be fun and disguise the fact that my lower locks are turning silver? I think hot pink would be sexy and — hello! — what a surprise for a male suitor.
I could get the whole bush waxed off, but as it grows back, it’s too uncomfortable for me, and I rather like some fullness in that area. It keeps me feeling safe and warm. Without it, I feel too bare and naked.
Maybe going at the grays one at a time with a pair of tweezers will work for a bit, but I’m sure it won’t be long before there are too many and I won’t be able to keep up. Plus, ouch. I really should spend my time doing more productive things than trying to pluck pubic hairs.
After having a few weeks to get used to the idea of salt-and-pepper pubes, I decided to say fuck it. I’m going to embrace my changing pubic hairs and thank them for their loyal service over the years by letting them age gracefully. I’m kinda sick of having to keep up with maintaining a youthful appearance on the places that show, so why worry about a region that is zipped up 99% of the time?
I’m still entertaining the idea of dyeing my muff hot pink or electric blue just because I can, and I think it would be fun. I’ve overcome many trials and tribulations in my life, including a recent divorce, so I did not expect gray pubes to throw me for a loop. But they did. At least my eyebrows are still safe.
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