"Noticed what?" I asked. Was I literally the only woman with pubic hair? I actually hadn't noticed—I wasn't checking out other women's bushes—but once I started looking, I saw he was right.
My pubes proceeded to be the first thing other guests mentioned when they saw me. One called my hair configuration a "lobster trap." Another described my bush as "massive." Several construed the natural appearance I'd given no thought to until recently as some sort of statement. "You seem like a hippie," said one man.
Despite the fact that pubic hair protects your vagina from injuries, STIs, and other bacteria, I started to feel dirty and came home with newfound insecurities. "Did you ever think my bush was big?" I asked my boyfriend.
"I mean, I thought it was bigger than mine," he said. (He shaves.)
"But, like, was it a problem?"
"Of course not. I love your vagina, no matter what you do with it," he said. (Ding! Right answer.) He did, however, find the term "lobster trap" hilarious—so much so that he joked about it the next time he went down on me. Let's just say, with everything on my mind, I didn't take the joke so well this time. I stopped him, told him I was dealing with too many body image issues to relax, and cried into his chest.
It turns out that a lot had changed since I was a carefree 18-year-old giggling at a hookup's "bush" pun—and most of it wasn't my own doing. Throughout the years others had subtly shamed my pubic hair preferences until I internalized this totally sexist beauty standard.
I'm trying to deal with that every day while still doing what feels best for me. Plus, hopefully, things are changing. New Redtube data show that the porn search term "bush" is actually on the rise, which could mean that pubic-hair shaming is on the decline. In a more body-positive environment, the self-consciousness I experienced about my pubic hair could've been avoided—as could the cost and pain of trying to remove said hair.
If some women feel more comfortable without pubes, I have no interest in stopping them. But as for me, I'll keep proudly rocking mine while remembering what my teenage self knew all along: That they're not weird, dirty, or hippie-ish, but clean, healthy, and attractive.
Plus, they provide an excellent opportunity for wordplay.
This article is part of Summer of Sex, our 12-week long exploration of how women are having sex in 2017.
More Summer of Sex:
—Welcome to Glamour.com's Summer of Sex
—How Model Hanne Gaby Odiele Came Out as Intersex
—Meet 6 Sex-Positive Instagrammers Changing the Internet
