There isn’t much that makes me stand out from the crowd. I’m spectacularly average — something that has always served me well offline, as I prefer to blend in. In a heavily image-based industry, however, I had struggled to make an impression as potential clients browsed through thousands of available models. I had a good core of regulars who appreciated my enthusiasm for roleplay and repertoire of fetish interests, but I wasn’t getting enough clicks on my profiles, missing the chance to use my personality and performance to convert browsers into buyers. Growing out my pubes changed that.
It started with a sneeze. I was contorted awkwardly in a too-small shower stall, doing something I’d done frequently for over a decade: shaving my pubes. I disliked the expense of waxing, but needed to maintain the smooth, bald look for camming and filming videos, so I spent a fair amount of time spreading various bits of my downstairs anatomy, hunting down stray hairs. The sneeze came at the worst time, and, with a brand-new razor at peak sharpness at the edge of delicate flesh, disaster ensued. It was a shallow cut, but any area with good circulation bleeds a lot, and it looked like I’d reenacted “Psycho” in my bathroom. When I’d finally staunched the flow, I took a close look with a mirror. The cut was ugly, and marred the near-perfect smoothness I had spent so long maintaining. I was pissed.
I had a good core of regulars who appreciated my enthusiasm for roleplay and repertoire of fetish interests, but I wasn’t getting enough clicks on my profiles.
The cut healed slowly, constantly re-opened by thongs that wedged themselves into the dark crevice, and irritated by my continuous use of fingers and sex toys during cam shows. I found myself dreading shaving, and decided to give it a rest. The pubes grew in quickly, passing from smooth to stubbly and prickly in a matter of days. Three weeks after the accident, as I packed for a two-week road trip, my bush was beginning to take shape. Spending hours in a car, sleeping at camp sites and sightseeing during the day didn’t lend itself to much grooming beyond a quick shower when available. When I finally arrived at my new apartment and began setting up my cam room, my silky dark pubes were nearly one-inch long.
I hadn’t intended to keep the bush. After my road trip, I’d planned to buy a fresh pack of razors and go bare again. I was still feeling slightly squeamish about the potential for another accident, though, so I kept putting it off. I changed my taglines and profile descriptions to “hairy” and logged on to cam anyway. Concerned that my existing customers would be turned off by my new hirsute status, I sent a mass message out to say it was a temporary thing, and soon I’d be smooth and bald again.
Four years later, I’ve still got a wild bush — and I no longer shave my armpits, either. Why? Because suddenly I stood out, and I found myself in a niche I never considered, with my career taking off.
It was awkward at first, and I would apologize for the hair — after all, I’d shaved or waxed it all ever since my first partner saw me naked and was grossed out by my pubic hair. I assumed clients would be disappointed, and I started looking for a well-reviewed spa to get a Brazillian wax to start fresh. After my first three shifts on cam, though, I re-booked the appointment for a month later, eventually cancelling it. Just putting “bush” in my headline had more than tripled my traffic, and as my pubes continued to grow (eventually stopping at nearly two inches in places, and all the way around to the back door) I added “hairy” to all of my promo. New clients gushed about my wild growth, and encouraged me to stop shaving my legs and armpits, too. I began filming videos that showed off my newly hairy bits, focusing on the five senses, and sharing my experiences as I explored a bush I hadn’t seen in 11 years.
With more money coming in, it was pretty obvious that my foray into fur was successful, but I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. After all, I’d been fully shaved and waxed for over a decade, and most of the cam models and porn stars I looked up to for inspiration were similarly hair-free. I struggled with the sight and smell of my bush, unused to my body’s natural state. I started searching out successful performers with body hair, and began reading articles and personal essays from other women who had stopped shaving. I gradually got used to the look of the dark triangle between my legs, and started buying panties that would let a few curls escape around the sides to tease and tantalize my clients. I stopped shaving my armpits and legs too, taking photos with my arms posed to show off the dark tufts against my pale skin.
Every summer, when my body is covered in a sheen of sweat, and my armpit hair is slicked into one wet curl, I consider shaving. Last year, I shaved my armpits and legs to attend a family wedding in a sleeveless dress — my mother can handle my career in porn, but refuses to accept hairy pits. Other than that, I’ve leaned in to the hairy niche, finding ways to make my untamed bush the center of attention in photos, cam shows, and videos. Emphasizing the wild growth aspect has been particularly successful: avoiding trimming, taming or shaping my pubic hair has helped set me apart within the hairy niche.
As a person prone to planning, letting the internet decide that I should stay hairy was hard. I plan videos months in advance, meticulously research fetishes and re-shoot content that strays from my intended story line. Changing my appearance for work — even in such an easily reversible way — felt like a betrayal of offline Katy, and I worried that I was letting my online persona bleed into my personal life. At the end of the day, though, going with the flow and letting my customers decide how they wanted to see me led to a better business base than I could have ever found on my own. Sometimes, planning closes off unexpected avenues that, had you gone down them, would have led to new heights. Business gurus say to “expect the unexpected,” and to plan for that — I’d say to walk a few steps down every road you pass by. You never know which way success will find you if you don’t let yourself wander.
Katy Churchill is a content creator who can be followed on Clips4Sale.com/72461, @BootsChurchill on Twitter and KatyChurchill.com.
