If Anyone Needs a Brazilian, it’s Not the Dog
The only person in our household who gets his or her hair cut professionally isn’t a person. It’s our white fluff-ball of a dog. She’s the one who gets her nails done, her hair washed and trimmed, and apparently, such a close shave around her private parts that my wife was spurred to comment on the undesirability of a Brazilian wax on a dog.
“Do I need to see that much of her… No!” she (my spouse, not the dog) snorted, averting her eyes from the dog’s unnecessarily naked rear.
I think the groomer got a little carried away this time. Usually it is less of a wax-job and more of a trim. Much less raw. The dog looks like she’s ready to pose for “Playdog” or “Doghouse” or maybe Cosmo in a thong.
The rest of us are far more furry. My daughter has started trimming her own long tresses, I’m cutting my spouse’s and older son’s hair (though he’s responsible for his own beard and any attempts to braid it Viking-style), my wife buzzes the younger boy, and I gave up having anyone attempt to tame my kinky red hair because it was always botched. If it has to be botched, I’d rather it be botched for free by me, than expensively by someone else.
I give free touch-ups.
About the whole “grooming down under” thing—everyone is on his or her own.
I regard the fashion for personal grooming with suspicion and a feminist carry-over attitude that dictates, “Everyone’s beautiful, in their own way,” instead of wanting my private parts to be primped and prepped for use like anyone else’s. Plus, for those who have suffered the after-effects of a total shave, yikes! Comfort is regained in how many weeks?
Hair provides cushioning, air flow, breathing space within the underwear. Prevents chafing, unpleasant textures, and unintentional camel toe. And if you go commando, watch out for those seams!
The dog, in comparison, is lucky. Not only does she eschew jeans and wicker chairs (she’d prefer to chew them), she can flop her naked butt onto the cold linoleum floor for comfort until her hair grows back and her dignity (and privacy) is regained. And she can lick herself whenever the mood strikes her.
Something human beings weren’t given in the great lotto game called life. Maybe that’s why we’re so busy and grumpy all the time.
I am sure, however, that there is a happy medium for both canine and human inhabitants when it comes to hair. The impenetrable forest isn’t useful for either, but absolute clear-cutting seems a bit rude. How about a discreet undergrowth? Groundcover? Traversable but not naked terrain?
Having crossed over from dog metaphors into forestry (are references to burning bushes and bush-whacking far behind?), I remind myself that hair grows back, fluffiness will return to the little dog’s backside, and my wife will once again be able to look at her without averting her eyes or blushing.
Blogger Bio: Beren deMotier is a Carol Brady in Levis/tattooed lesbian mama in a mini-van, obsessed with safety, doing the right thing and the amount of dog hair on her wood floors. She is a regular contributor to both Curve and Black Lamb, and has written for Hip Mama, And Baby, Pride Parenting, ehow.com, and for her blog, “That Lesbian Mom Next Door.” Her multi-award-winning book, The Brides of March: Memoir of a Same-Sex Marriage, recounts her giddy leap through a legal window, straight onto the barbeque pit of public debate when she and her partner married in Oregon in 2004, their three children along for the raucous ride. (berendemotier.com)