It all started with Jafar pubes…

Pubic hairs appeared on my vaginal scene at 12. I was horrified. They looked like Jafar’s ridiculous black beard. 

Then my period happened and I thought a bloody apocalypse had arrived on my 13-year-old door step.

As the years have gone by I have had an on-off relationship with my magical muff. Through itchy sticky waxes; period blood seeping through my bridesmaid dress and
aladdin and iagoa fear of my wonky labia- my hairy vag and me have remained firm frenemies- in fact, its a relationship that can easily be compared to the love/hate-filled closeness of Jafar and Iago. 

When I was studying Psychology at the tender age of 26 I naturally gravitated towards writing my thesis on my fave topic of torment, vaginas.

 I called the paper Man vs Vagina. NO, it was not some sort of Man vs Food thing i.e. how many vaginas can you eat in under three minutes.

It looked at what men think about how vaginas look, what the media portrays as a hot vagina and how this can influence women’s relationship with their vagina. Writing this paper made me realise how much us poonani pals are pressured to have our vaginas look a certain way. For goodness sake we already have everyone on at us about our ‘lopsided breasts’, ‘spindly legs’ and ‘bingo wings’. Can’t they just leave our vaginas alone.

I’m going to admit that I’ve spent tonnes of time freaking out about my vagina- is is too fleshy? too dangly? too fuzzy? too dark? too wrinkly? It is about time we all realise that every vagina is unique and difference isn’t gross. Difference it is DELIGHTFUL. 

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