Merkins Have Nothing To Do With Mermaids

Until today, I would have told you that the best thing about being 40 is that there was no Facebook around when I was young and stupid. Because no one needs a timeline of that.  But now that the luxury merkin, or furkin, is a thing, I have to say the fact that I'll never be expected to get one is the best thing about being 40.

A furkin, for those of you (wisely) afraid to click the link, is when a woman completely waxes her pubic hair, then puts on a pubic wig made of dyed fox fur.

A pubic wig, people.

I refuse to further investigate this phenomenon to find out if it stays on during sex or if people into bestiality started it. I will, however, hope that they do a new episode of Real Sex so I can watch practitioners try to justify it. Because really, unless you're very excited by fox fur, or you prefer your women to look like anime characters, why would this be a turn on?

Of course, I never understood vajazzling either. Or anything beyond neatness and cleanliness. Possibly because no man who's gotten near my nether regions has ever said anything like, "Gee, I'd be so much more turned on if you had my initials spelled out in glitter down here," or "Wow, if only your pubes were hot pink and soft, I'd be so happy." I'm pretty sure that when a man gets near the nether regions, all he's thinking is, "I hope I get to have sex soon."

I fear this trend of dressing up the vaginas. I feel like it's telling young women, "There's absolutely no part of you that's acceptable just the way it is." The little feminist in my head says that this could also be an argument for not advertising make-up and photo-retouching to teenagers, but since I'm devoted to tinted moisturizer, I feel that bringing up this point might be hypocritical. Also, make-up and photo-retouching are not physically painful, but waxing sure as hell is. Not to mention, what happens when the furkin is removed? That's gotta hurt too.

Not that I'll ever have to find out.