Four Fearsome Females shave

When we were about fifteen Pat, Clarice, Mary, and I decided to shave our recently-blooming pubic hair. I really don’t remember whose idea it was, but we spent an hour or so in Mary’s bathroom shaving ourselves and each other and giggling a lot. It probably goes without saying that her parents were not home. That was when we first noticed the slight twist in Clarice’s labia. (This later inspired her husband’s pet name for her, “Ceecee.” Shortly after our shaving session, Clarice saw a doctor who assured her that it presented no problem.)

I don’t think any of us thought our shaving was all that big a deal at the time. I know that when I got home I showed my newly-bared area to my mother and she remained calm. She did tell me that she would have preferred that I had not done so, but said that it was my right to do what I wanted about the matter and I had done a good job. She did suggest that usually such choices are made by grown women after they were married and suggested that I might wish I had chosen differently the next time I had to shower after gym class. (We never even thought about piercing back then. I think she might have had other ideas about how far my rights went if that had been brought up.)

I had already thought about the gym class thing. We all had. We had been giggling about it while we shaved. My thought was if one of the other girls wanted to give me any grief that I would just tell her that only a lesbian would notice. (I actually planned on using a less polite term than lesbian, but that was my sentiment.) I figured that even if the girl was a lesbian she would back off.

We had gym classes on alternate days back then and Clarice and Pat had classes the next school day while Mary and I did not. By the time Clarice and Pat had returned home their mothers had received telephone calls from Miss Whipple, the assistant principal in charge of girls informing them of their daughters’ shaved state. Clarice’s mother was very disturbed and even discussed with her and with her father (although I don’t think at the same time) about putting her back in Catholic school. She seemed to think that nice girls did not do such things. (Years later when we were a little tipsy and we were reminiscing about this, Clarice said that she thinks her father have diverted the conversation by suggesting that her mother might shave herself.)

Pat’s mother had reacted quite differently, asking Miss Whipple what business it was of hers or the school and asking her if she had been personally checking the showers or had been informed by some busybody girl. Miss Whipple said it was the teacher who had told her. Pat’s mother said that the teacher should stick to women her own age and leave the girls alone. (It was widely suspected that the teacher was a lesbian. I don’t know whether that was true. Such things were kept quiet then, but she did live with another of the school's female teachers. They were still living together when they were well into their retirement.)

Clarice’s mother called the other mothers. I was home when she called mine and I remember hearing my mother saying, “Yes, I know. I think she did such a good job. I hope Clarice looks as nice.” I think she flummoxed the poor woman a little. Our parents had never been close friends before and they certainly were not afterward.

Mary’s teacher apparently either did not notice or chose to let the matter pass. I am guessing that she just did not notice, because she was the kind who never seemed to spend much time checking up on the girls while they showered. My teacher did but she did not have Miss Whipple call. She made the call herself from her own home in the evening. My mother assured her that she had been aware of the situation and thanked her for her concern but suggested that it really should not be a school matter and the matter apparently was left at that.

Clarice ended up having to talk with her guidance counselor who wanted her to see the school psychologist, but her father didn’t want her to have any history of seeing a psychological treatment on her record and somehow had enough clout to avert that. I guess his brother had gone to college with the principal, but I don’t know whether that was what did it.

We all let ourselves grow again, although Clarice did spend most of her adult life shaved.

It seemed ironic that about this same time they expelled a senior boy because he would not shave his face.

But I guess that these events were what really got me wondering what business it was of a school’s whether a person shaved below or above. And that got me wondering what business a lot of other things they seemed to stick their noses into were.

In my adult life, I have spent a lot of time around schools, higher education not K12, but I have been vigilant to keep my head out of students’ personal business unless I am asked to help, and I leave their parents out of things.

And I remember that it was less than pleasant to let it all grow back out again.

Intro -- Four Fearsome Females

There were four of us girls growing up who were together all the time from grade school on – Mary, Clarice, Pat and I. We called ourselves the “Four Fearsome Females.” We did everything together and went to the same places, ate and slept in each other’s houses a lot. Maybe the fact that all of us had brothers and no sisters had something to do with things. (Actually, Pat has a sister but she is fourteen years older than Pat and was not around.) We always said we would be together forever and to a large degree we have. Clarice is no longer living, having fallen victim to breast cancer when we were in our mid-30s, but the three others of us were all on hand with her husband and son when she went. I see Pat often since our professional meanderings have put us about ten miles apart. I don’t see Mary as much since she now lives in Arizona and I am in the Midwest, but she isn’t likely to leave my life as she married Lowell more than thirty years ago. And of course in this day of email and low-cost long distance we still communicate almost daily.

We were all raised in upper middle class families in the post-war era in the western suburbs of Chicago. Pat and I attended the same women’s college in the East for a couple of years until I transferred to Ohio State. I just couldn’t take the rich bitches I was going to school with or the female-only environment. Pat managed to stick it out longer, but she came back to the Midwest as soon as she finished there.