Barely, Curly & Flow

It always fascinated me how the dynamic of boys with each other and girls with each other is so drastically different when it comes to modesty. Most boys are exhibitionists - walking around with their bits hanging out after gym class. Girls? We have developed the fine art of completely undressing, drying off and re-dressing entirely cloaked under our over-sized towel - revealing nothing, even to our closest friends.

Our society and architectural constructs also encourage this divide. Boys have a single open room for undressing; girls have cubicles. For me, who had always been curious about other people, found this annoying - but I had to play along in order not to be labelled a "freak". I chose to keep my freak hidden from most.

Anyway, one night in grade 8, myself, my best friend and another girl were hanging out in my friend's basement. We were a pretty close trio - however it was my friend that was the common link. I didn't overly care for the other girl - she was probably the bossiest person I had ever met. If you told her the sky was blue, she's deny it just to argue with you. Since I despised confrontation, it wasn't the ideal chemistry for a lasting friendship.

Nevertheless, there we were - in my friend's basement. Thirteen and Bored.

I really cannot remember how the topic came up, but there it arose - pubic hair. It started off as a joke and then one thing led to another and before we knew it, all 3 of us had our pants around our ankles. We stood there - bottom half naked - inspecting each other's lady bits.

What we didn't expect was how different we actually were. It was fascinating - in a completely non-sexual way. My friend had a fair amount of pubic hair, but it was almost straight - like flowing straight; I wanted to comb it and put it in a ponytail. Whereas myself? I had the typical bush - auburn and curly. I had already had to have taken to mowing my coiffed cooter as young as 12 or else it got a little out of control. Think of Russell Brand's hair - but auburn - and on my vagina...

Out of control.

The third girl? She was practically bald. The grass was barely growing on the field and the players were still in the dugout. After I thought about it, it didn't really surprise me; she was often chastised by the boys for being as flat as an ironing board. She was just a late bloomer. We didn't care; it was just an interesting observation - nothing more.

So, of course, this sort of event was to be kept on the STRICT DOWN LOW. No one needed to know about what we had done - NO ONE. No matter how innocent it was, it wouldn't have mattered to the gossip mongers.

I was a professional at keeping funky weird shit like this a secret. A God damn seasoned pro, I was.

The very next school day, not 15 minutes into the day, I hear: "There's the Three Dykes! Ha,ha,ha!" and "Hey! It's the Lesbian Trio!"

What - the - fuck?

It lasted for weeks. WEEKS, I tell you! I was so embarrassed and intensely furious. I never did find out which of the two leaked the details of our weekend activities - because it sure as hell wasn't me. Luckily, we were fairly high up on the pecking order of pre-teen piranhas, so it didn't completely ruin our social lives. If we were, well, lower, it likely would have meant a social death by schoolyard crucifixion.

I recently corresponded with this friend - after many years of not seeing each other and having grown apart. The first thing she said to me was, "Hey there, Curly!"

"Hey there to you too, Straights!"