The first time I looked was a few months after my wedding. Hubby made me—after he got me to shave off all my pubic hair. He told me I’d be more attractive if I was ‘clean’. He wanted me to look like the porn stars he watched; he showed me what they looked like, he showed me what I didn’t look like. He waited outside the bathroom while I shaved—my hands shaking, humiliated I was being made to do it. More humiliated when he held the mirror and made me look afterwards. It looked like a plucked chicken, raw, vulnerable and naked. It also hurt like hell when the stubble started growing out three days later.

I had always been scared of my vagina—till I got married. I remember being scolded for touching myself when I was an eight-year-old. I really needed to go to the toilet and we were at the railway reservation counter. So I held myself tight and incurred the wrath of my mother.

‘Don’t be a dirty girl,’ she said, shaking me hard, embarrassed that some boys were pointing at us and laughing.

Like many other children I learnt early on that I had to be ashamed of my private parts, that it was dirty. Look at the names I was taught—that you, right at this moment are teaching your kids. No-no. Shame-shame. Chee-chee.

I don’t shave anymore. I’ve finally found a parlour that does a good Brazilian. It’s less a parlour and more a small, dingy room with purple walls and a hospital stretcher for a bed. The ‘bed’ has a sheet with fading sunflowers on it and usually looks soiled. I try not to think about what else happens on that bed, it’s that kind of a parlour. But that’s the best I could do since every respectable parlour I tried refused to wax down there. Apparently you’re a woman of questionable reputation if you ask for a complete wax job. How do I tell them my husband wants it?

Shaving/waxing is just one of the things I’ve done to keep Hubby happy. Watching porn, wearing a corset (imported, mind you) and buying a sex toy (a vibrating egg) are some of the other things.

Watching other people fuck—even if on a screen—while we sat and smoked or had a glass of beer took some getting used to. Now I quite enjoy porn, though I prefer the sort where they show the man’s face as well. The vibrating egg was a different story; I’ll save it for another post.