I don’t check it often, but I occasionally fall down the vortex of advice columns at the Washington Post, reading Ask Amy and Carolyn Hax.
A question from a column last week piqued my interest, and I thought it would be interesting to survey our readers about the issues it raises.
The question, basically, is: when, in a romantic relationship, is it okay for the mask to slip? Even the staunchest feminist conditions her luxurious leg hair at the beginning of courtship, and might be careful that her unbleached organic cotton undies and bra match. But no matter how careful one is, the realities of living in an animal body will intrude. Contrary to conventional wisdom, girls do poop. And fart and burp and bleed and stink and flake and all the rest. And what about all the maintainance? The clay masks, the DIY highlights, the shaving and plucking and waxing?
But when do you reveal this to your sweet babboo? (Is it different if your sweet babboo is herself a girl, and knows first-hand that we do these things?) And are there some things that you never reveal?
It’s been a long time since I played coy about needing to pee in the middle of dinner, but even a dozen years later, Pee Time Is Me Time. Door closed, no foolin’. Toilets aren’t for sharing. I don’t care if he sees me flossing or shaving, and burping is funny, but I’m going to secretly (or “secretly’) attend to any freaky hairs or weird bumps. It’s not quite logical, but we understand the rules, even never having talked about them.
So how does it work for you? Whether you’re dating/sleeping around, in the throes of romance, or an old partnered lady like I am, you deal with this stuff. What are your rules?