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...
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!"