Don't Call it a Comeback.

Wow. I just realized that I started a blog a long ass time ago and never finished it. Although I'm not really sure anyone reads this blog, but I write for me and not really anyone else. Christmas sucked and that sort of made my whole winter break suck as well. That, along with the fact that I did not work on my tutorial at all over break combined to make this winter probably the worst I can remember. Although I made a pre New Year's resolution to shave more. I think, on the whole, I am much too hairy. Of course, I shave my armpits, but legs and pussy do not get nearly enough attention. This has always been a point of contention with me because I do not feel like I have to live up to any sort of image of what a woman should be or what a woman should look like, which I think also plays a role in my weight and overall image. And as a result of my stance on the issue of women and our looks in society, I have always had an issue with pubic hair. Personally, I don't mind it. It's natural and serves a purpose by keeping out harmful bacteria. I don't like the fact that women feel the need to go bald because of some picture in a magazine or because they feel that is what is attractive to all men. And personally, I don't like going bald. It makes me feel about 10 years old. And 1998 was not a good year for me. Usually, I trim once in a while. Though I am in favor of pubic hair, I do believe maintenance is a good idea. Actually, I feel this is the way to go for guys too. Because as much as I believe pubic hair is a good thing, it's not something I want to be pulling out of my teeth. So I do believe in some landscaping. However, I was in London this past semester and just didn't really get around to it. It wasn't necessarily anything I planned to do. I just didn't do it. And the longer I went without doing it, the bigger the task seemed so out of pure laziness I decided to wait. And I waited. For 3 months I waited. On August 26th I went to the lady doctor for a pap smear. And being the great little patient that I am, I trimmed very closely for the occassion, although ironically didn't shave my legs which were probably going on about 3 weeks at that point. Anywho, I went from August 26th until around New Years. I don't know the exact date, but one day I just got fed up. With another period coming and time on my hands, I decided it was the best course of action. But shaving is not always easy. I am notoriously bad about DIY hair cutting of any kind and I reference the time I shaved off half my eyebrow freshman year. But it had to be done and since I don't want to pay money for someone to rip off my pubic hair with hot wax, I thought why not do it myself. But I always have questions. Firstly, after three months of course the hair was too long for just a quick swipe with the razor. And I always have problems with....let's say logistics. How much do I cut? How close should the trim be? And how far do I go down? Just to the taint or do I go for the whole shebang and risk literally ripping myself a new one? So to help myself out, I got some hardware. A beard trimmer. A while ago on Jezebel.com one of the posters posted about pubic hair and she mentioned she used a beard trimmer and that it worked quite well. This was perfect for me, I thought, it was easy and would basically do all the work for me. What I didn't count on was how many razors there are on the market for men and I also didn't take into account how expensive they are. I doubt even MacGyver himself would buy a razor for $100.00 which is completely ridiculous. In my opinion, if I am spending $100.00 on a razor, the little razor fairy better be waiting to pop out and shave my pussy for me. Anywho, I got one for around $18. It had six attachments, though I really only needed two of them, although I may hold on to the nose and ear hair trimmer until after menopause (just in case). Actually, there were two different attachments specifically for trimming shorter and longer beards, which for some reason, everytime I saw them, reminded me of my mother's brother Jerry who has a beard and bears a striking resemblence to the popular Western version of Jesus. And for some reason picturing both my uncle and Jesus while shaving my vagina made me feel slightly uncomfortable. But it worked. Really well. And I was very pleased with the outcome. But the mystery of pubic hair still baffles me. I mean, one day it just shows up and you're stuck with it forever. Society's view of pubic hair also baffles me. I was just reading a quote from Jenny McCarthy yesterday and she said she only reads Playboy Magazine to find out how women are grooming themselves nowadays. So is the bald look a passing fad? Will we one day go back to where women wear what has been coined the "fur bikini?" Are the variations in pubic hair maintenance the result of women striving to be attractive and desirable to men or are they the result of women owning both their bodies and their sexualities and making decisions about their most intimate lady parts accordingly? In my opinion a grad student in Women's Studies should be writing a thesis about this right now. Pubic hair is different for everyone, but for right now I'll just keep trimming, when I get around to it.

In other news, tough stuff lately. It's been an adjustment coming back from London to the U.S. The adjustment hasn't really been cultural, but more personal. I feel as though I have changed over the past 4 months. I feel like I have grown more responsible and more independent, which may have made it more difficult to go back to my parents house and start working at my summer job again. Lots of fights with my parents, lots of bringing up things that happened in the past happening at my house this winter. Which isn't really anything new, I just hoped that once I had left the country for a few months, maybe things would be better. I'm not saying some of it isn't my fault, but it's still tough to deal with sometimes. I was sick for about a week after getting back from London and wasn't able to go back to Dominican to exchange Christmas presents and although I sent them through the mail and received my presents when I got back to school, it still wasn't the same. When I think about London, I do miss things. I miss going out of my flat and being somewhere. I miss seeing some of the most beautiful sights in the world, places that people I know only dream of seeing. Going to France and Holland was amazing. Seeing the beaches at Normandy, Jim Morrison's grave, and the Anne Frank house in Amsterdam were three things I had always wanted to do and I am so grateful that I was able to see them. Being in London during an election year was such a unique experience, I only wish I had gone to the political rally in Grosvenor Square on eleciton day (I could have seen Josh Hartnett, fug as he is) and living in a new place, seeing myself grow and change is one of the most amazing experiences. But one of the things I always think of when I think about living in London and going on my vacation with Mackenzie is the American cemetery at Normandy. Almost 10,000 graves is a lot and obviously as a U.S. History major, I was moved by the sacrifice of so many. But that wasn't what moved me the most. When I walked among the graves I saw so many young men who were my age or younger. Guys that never had a chance to do all the things I get to do everyday. Guys who never had a chance to see all the things I get to see everyday. And when I think about that, I get sad. Because I think of all the time I have wasted in my life. Times when I decided to stay in instead of going out. Times when I decided to go out instead of staying in. The times I spent hurting people. The times I spent being hurt by others. The times I laughed and shouldn't have. The times I should've laughed and didn't. Things I have said, but shouldn't have. Things I should've said, but didn't. People always like to say "no regrets." But I have regrets upon regrets, especially concerning the past few months. I regret the time I spent in London being angry and hurt. I regret that I let people get to me and make some days very hard for me when I should have been out having the time of my life. I regret that I don't have a friendship that I valued greatly, maybe more so than I ever showed. I regret that I made mistakes in dealing with people, let my anger and emotion overcome reason more often than it should. I regret that I am not able to open up to people and explain my feelings to them because sometimes it is too painful. I regret that I constanstly seek approval and that seems to be my downfall. And I regret that I am back at Dominican with this amazing experience behind me, and feel the loneliest I have ever felt. These past few days I have been trying to come to terms with things that happened in London, both good and bad. And maybe that's what I have to do. Maybe I have to reflect on the good and the bad, take the highs with the lows and let it go. I think that in every experience that is so bewildering and awe-inspiring, in an experience like London, there will be good and bad, progress and regress, courage and fear. But when you put it all together, you get the base of who you are. When I look back on London and I take the excitement, fear, happiness, hurt, the new friends, and the lost friends together, I get myself now. I just can't decide whether or not I like myself now. Regardless of what happened over the past few months and what continues to happen now, I still have to have faith in myself. Though it's hard sometimes, and has been very hard since coming back to Dominican and I do wish so much for things to be different, I still have to keep having faith in myself.