There is a contingent of anonymous shitbags who like to call me names and hurl insults at me. Sometimes they do it on these pages, sometimes they do it on other blogs and forums. I think they are mostly middle-aged conservative men, but who knows? After all, they're anonymous shitbags. One of the things they like to "accuse" me of is being a hippie chick.
I suppose, based on this photo of me when I was eight and the fact that I own a vial of patchouli oil, I could be described thusly. But whether or not "hippie chick" applies to me, I don't take it as an insult. After all, there's plenty of men who will pay good money to view photos of nude hippie chick earth goddesses.
( ... shhhh ... be very quiet ... hear that? It's the sound of all the conservative middle-aged anonymous shitbags pulling out their credit cards in order to join that site ... )
I was lunching with an old pal yesterday and this very subject came up. He was lauding the virtues of women who prefer to go au naturale.
"I'm talking about your full 70's bush."
We discussed vintage Playboys and the sad status of today's Playmates and how razors and Photoshop have reduced the adult female form to an impossible pedophiliac cartoon (I have blogged about this before). We talked about how the hair on our bodies, like our sexuality, is animalistic.
"Why remove the one thing that enhances the animalistic nature of sex?"
Although I have no intention of revealing my own grooming habits, do know that I like me some hairy guys. Big hairy guys with beer! Yay!
So boys, maybe that twentysomething chickie wants you baby-bottom smooth, but this fortysomething hippie chick loves you just the way you are.