I had 10 min to get ready for a costume fitting. Pristine underwear yes, deodorant yes, hairline ugh. The ginger coalition of dissidents were escaping over the cotton line and there was no way I had time to jump in the shower and remove the curly bastards I mean beauties. I scrabbled through my oversized bag of medicinal supplies and found a razor that still had its cap on.
Three days later, I was SO glad Glands and Seabum had collaborated to provide me with another batch of fiery vibrissa. As one tiny follicle pushed through my skin to meet the sun SHE defected, burying her head back down. NO. She cried out. No, please. Not the light. It’s too bright, close the curtains. Please. Please. Please. She became red with embarrassment and rage for treating her so unfairly. She was hurting inside and then without me knowing, went and met the undies who met the crease who met the skin who met the sweat, who met the jeans. She sobbed all over all of them. Wetfaced and weary I ran myself a salt bath. I lay there for a bit, poked, squeezed, swore and eventually yielded. I couldn’t see her for the life of me. I’d turned this way and that, inside out and back to front, tidal waves crashing over the sides onto the laminate floor.
AHHHHHH!!!!!! HEALED. She had been appeased. Google suggested Tea-Tree Oil, so the following morning I went in search of the chemmeister and anointed myself. Thanks be to.. nooooooooo. SHE’S still here. Keeping shelter under my thicket. Small, but not SO small, and swelling with each passing moment. 3 weeks had gone by since the the unfortunate dry quickie and when I finally agreed to look, I doubled over (more of an up and down double take then the more traditional side to side one) and gasped. It was much bigger than what it had been. A giant third labia. A mound, a mountain, and I was starting to feeling unwell. To the DOCTORS I say, to get an occidental opinion.
‘You have an infection’ she stated and pronounced me unwell. ‘Here take this very strong dose of antibiotics and if that doesn’t work we shall have to look into doing a procedure.’
Holy hell. How did I get here… I just didn’t want my ginger pubes on display for the costume madam and audience to witness. Is that so wrong? As I sit here, feeling quite poorly, drugged up on something that kills both HER and everything else, because for shame, they might think that I’m unhygienic? That I don’t take pride? That it’s ugly? That I’m not like them? That, that, that- as soon as I articulate anything, it sounds ridiculous and I mean none of it and all of it at the same time? I am a woman, an actor with a beautiful fiery mane. Yes! An exquisite auburn coat. Yes! Lady Trail, Happy Garden, Landing Strip of Softness, Silky Forrest, Red Squirrel Tail, Kate Bush, Wonderful, wonderful yes, viva to my hairy locks!
Oh and next time-
don’t dry shave.