Growing Up Hairy

Wigs and Pictures Since recently separating from my husband, I started seeing a therapist for the first time. She has me talking about all of my past serious love relationships, so we can figure out if there is some sort of pattern that I follow when picking a man. We were on my 3rd most serious relationship when I found myself sharing some very intimate details about our lovemaking. I’m not sure she was quite ready for what I was about to tell her, and I’m not sure Bongo Java is either, but this is how it went: Making Love to Kevin was like constantly being on a movie set. Of a porno. It was our 3rd Valentine’s Day together and my 143rd appearance as Barbara Streisand. Barbara was one of his favorite characters for me to portray. My funny Valentine was an indie filmmaker and he carried his love for fantasy over into the bedroom. He couldn’t quite distinguish the real world from the perfect world of lights, camera, action. Don’t get me wrong I loved his imagination. The chanc

It was 1988, my hair resembled a small black poodle resting atop my heavily hairsprayed head, Jon Bon Jovi was my idol and all my girlfriends were having sex. With their boyfriends not with each other, not that there's anything wrong with that. There has been many a time since then that I have prayed to God to make me a lesbian but that's another story. My girlfriends who were only a year older than me were so free and comfortable with their bodies. At sleep overs they would all walk around naked trying on each other's clothes and looking at their boobs in the mirror. I on the other hand found it embarrassing to just remove my socks in front of them. Their bodies looked like beautifully chisseled sculptures made out of the finest clay. Mine looked like a pile of play dough that my little sister dropped on the floor and stepped on. This one particular friday night we were sleeping over my friend Kim's house she was the prettiest and had the most sexual experienc

If you ever visited The Ground Round as a kid you may have found memories of the peanuts and popcorn served to you before dinner in baskets(as many free refills as you want) the very cool movie screens with cartoons and Abbott and Costello movies playing and the ice cream sundaes served in plastic baseball hats. OR you may even remember “Pay What you Weigh Tuesdays”. This is when children under the age of 12 wait in line to get weighed after which some young punk announces your weight over the microphone to the entire restaurant. Whatever you weigh that is what you pay. Now, not only did I grow up hairy I grew up loving food and I kind of resembled a very husky Mexican boy. I HATED going to The Ground Round and I certainly did not want to attend “Pay what you Fucking weigh TUESDAYS!” My sister,mother and father who were frickin tooth picks however LOVED the Gound Round. My dad in particular love to take us especially on Tuesdays!! Rather than let you read my painful recollection ple

I am a thirty something Italian American girl who grew up in Canarsie, Brooklyn. My mom moved me and my sister there after she decided she couldn’t take being married to a man who made her line up 10 towels in size order that had to be periwinkle blue   and meticulously placed on their bed each night after he took a shower. After which he would lay upside down on a special chair that had to be exactly one foot from the floor while she fluffed his coif with each towel one by one at 1.3 seconds per towel usage.       So I think you can imagine the damage he did to her self esteem. From then on I was basically raised by my old school Italian grandma, a mom who was trying to find herself and a block full of   nosy   neighbors. Yes growing up in such an environment has made me who I am today, but don’t judge me. I call myself Coco Warbucks as to protect my family name as well as pay homage to my 2 favorite characters I admired growing up, Annie Warbucks and Coco from Fame. Please stay tune