The Nun With The Shaved Cunt

I bit my tongue. That was the involuntary action that I could muster in the little fraction of the second when the voice that made its way through the tunnels of my left ear sent my nerves into a murderous frenzy. It left behind a gentle tingling sensation on the tips of my fingers.

The voice of that certain Mr. X (for reasons of conditional anonymity) had certainly produced no such effect before. And highly unlikely to stimulate such extravagant demonstration of feelings in the future either. The careless juvenile selection of words was the grave he dug so tragically, in the valley of respect.

Later, when I could still taste the mild saltiness of blood that just coursed through my mouth sometime back, I experienced what could only be termed as a placid form of depression. Not because of Mr. X, with his gentlemanly yet sexist front, but just the sad reminder of the times we still live in. Not so very nice you see, dear Sir.

And somehow in some perfectly inexplicable way, I thought of how so many of our sexist beliefs pertaining to women, all stem from the big wide world of Pornography. And mind you, when I say ‘our beliefs’ I meant both men AND women. So we come back to the question of porn again. How many of us women admit to seeing it at some point of time or the other? How many would actually admit it to another man? Or maybe just admit the fact that you liked it? I cannot lay claim to a sea of experience when it comes to interaction but whenever I have seen or felt in the various social circles I’ve had the good fortune to acquaint myself with, all I can deduce is ZILCH! Not so much in the homosexual circles though but then again the poor darlings have been themselves straitjacketed to the end of the judgmental spectrum themselves, way too much and way too many times!

But let’s not just diverge from the main focus of my today’s rant against the sexist, bigoted mentality that I’ve had the misfortune of being cohorted with in sporadic bursts of time. So men, in a huge majority sadly, like to believe that women don’t watch porn. But funnily, if their girlfriends admit to it, I have witnessed behavior akin to almost rushing to the nearest departmental store and buying a perfectly packaged bunch of the brightest red cherries to decorate the top of their mentally (and sexually) stimulating cake! For lack of better judgment or just the fact that I’ve never personally experienced such perverseness, the only conclusion I can safely draw is that they suddenly expect their girlfriends (virgin, non-virgin whatsoever) will become these absolute Domina’s in bed who :

a.       Love to blow for hours on end without any such visible needs of their own.

b.      Possess assholes wide enough for a bottle of wine to go up there and stay put till the time she has to accommodate her ‘other’ anal functions, without the slightest hint of discomfort.

c.       Will be writhing in bed in the throes of a wild orgasm by the sight of an unduly large male organ, or maybe just a teensy bit of fucking.

d.      Are absolutely rid of inhibitions about getting down to business with the mailman/ milkman/ postman/ their kid’s friends/…. You get my gist.

e.       And finally the pièce de résistance, women DO NOT have hair on their bodies! (Except the head of course, because lustrous tresses are to be worshipped according to popular culture.)

This brings me into the realm of reality check. Trust me, I am hardly the abusive type and hurling unladylike profanity is pretty unlikely for me. Not because I insist on behaving like a ‘propah’ young lady but I have always cradled the belief that it is quite possible to communicate the torturous murderous feeling running in your veins by just the few right words with a little bit of punch! But never before has my mind gone into an overdrive so furiously fast that the status in my head hardly needs to be elucidated here for the voyeuristic benefit of another.

After I had reasonable time to calm down and think rather than blow fire through my flared nostrils, all I could intensely feel was a strong putrid taste of disgust. Back in my high school days, I once casually happened to go through the “Bridget Jones Diary” by Helen Fielding. I do not remember the exact lines so I dare not quote, but the basic premise of it was that women have to work harder than farmers to please men what with all the waxing, shaving, threading, bleaching, dyeing, and what not my fellow women subject themselves too. At that time, being quite naïve, I dismissed the view as one belonging to the era the book was written in rather than the era of adulthood I would be stepping into soon. Well, talk about a resounding slap in the face!

But still, the hypocritical status of our modern mindsets hardly gives me any respite. Sexual desires, however phenomenally strong and pronounced, have to be covered under this colossal blanket of chastity. BECAUSE, somewhere somehow women have condoned such behavior. Not the women living behind colourful veils in closeted spaces but even the ones putting on the perfect fragile façade of modernity, as to baffle any normal person, with the duality of emotions and behavior. I am not claiming to be perfect but then I also don’t shave my cunt and then lay claim to my oh-so-precious virginity.

This driving need to please the not-so-weaker sex has sent me grabbing for my pen finally. I have contemplated writing this for a really long time than I would care to admit. And yes one of the major reasons was the judgment and criticism that would ensue.

But then I realized, who am I trying to please?