I hate pubic hairs. Not pubic hair--I don't mind the bush--but pubic hairs: the loose, individual hairs that leave the body in order to bother me. Of course I hate the strange ones--like hanging off the rim of a public toilet! I'm getting a little queasy just thinking about it--but even my husband's. Even my own! Not that I'd expect anyone to be happy to come across one of those fellas (whoever it belonged to), but I don't think many people are as disturbed by them as I am. Look, we all have our hang-ups.
And because I am an expert at self-torment, I seem to have an eye for them. I find them everywhere. And then I must make them go away. If I see one in the bed or on the floor, I have to put it in the trash. (Stupiddaddy just ignores it. That he can continue on with his day knowing there is a pubic hair right at his feet astounds me.) I will even grab some toilet paper and nudge a stranger's straggler into the toilet at a restaurant.
When I was in college, my very first real boyfriend had me over for dinner at his off-campus apartment. The whole time we were eating, all I could think about was the pubic hair that was resting on the table we were eating at. Did he see it too? Was it his, or one of his roommates'? Should I just brush it away, or would that make things even more awkward?
It was very early in the relationship.
Once, as a "practical joke," Stupiddaddy put a pubic hair on my toothbrush. Boy was I surprised when I got ready to brush my teeth that night! Ha ha.
And once, when I was folding laundry, I found a pubic hair caught in the weave of one of Lilah's little pink and white striped socks.
That was really hard for me too.
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Or if you are visiting someone's house and there's a stray one on the soap in the shower...
Oh my god, I completely forgot about that scenario. That's like a whole post unto itself. Usually I stand there with the soap under the shower hoping the water beating down will wash it away. But sometimes I have to use my fingers.
Deb,
I've been meaning to write. Edgy Mama sang your praises when I met with her to pick her brain about freelance writing in Asheville. I'm enjoying your blog. Thanks for making me laugh about pubic hairs. In college, MY very first real boyfriend told me i had a hair growing out of my CHEEK (we're talking the face, here - and a swift race to the bathroom for some tweezers!) Guess that was more embarrassing than awkward, but it involved hair and a very first boyfriend, so your pubic hair story brought it to mind.
Anywho, besides a first boyfriend hair story and a similar name (I'm "Stinky Mommy" at MY house,) we have something else in common. I, too, am a "good little (Jewish) girl (who lived) in an unhappy family and hid her darker troubles," as it says on an online book review of your memoir. One day, we'll have to shmooze over some manichevitz and matzoh balls. (Or maybe not. I'd rather have chocolate.)
hey, soulmate, I nearly puked reading this post. smooches. also, I'm truly intending to update my blog today. for you.
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