Generations and generations of we Uski women have suffered with an over-active hormonal condition. My grandmothers before me had to shave each morning with the blade and strop, some standing beside her husband at the basin and mirror. You might think a man would shrink from a woman whose five o’clock shadow rivals his own, but Mother Nature compensates with other pleasing attributes for a couple. My feminine ancestors were blessed with such lovely figures and could bring a man to his knees begging for bedroom favors, that many a husband or lover gladly overlooked the stubble on the countenance of his woman by dawn’s early light.
My grandmothers and mother would live in ordinary bliss with the rest of the villagers, raising families, cooking meals, and satisfying their husbands. As for me, I did not wish to be confined to one man, one house, or one village. I wanted to venture out and see the world. Joining the circus was a natural choice for me. I decided to grow my girl-beard and let it be my magic carpet. In my 16th year, I threw aside my blade and let it grow to a substantial length. I was careful to keep in tucked in my bosom and then wore a loose-fitting scarf when I went into town. I did not want to over expose my amber and beaded oddity, but would unveil it the day the circus.
My parents approved of my plans. My mother was a bit envious; after many years she had grown wary of my father’s constant randy-ness. The day the circus rolled into town, I kissed mother and father good-bye and made my way to the village square.
The shrewd ringmaster called me into his personal trailer and asked me to remove my shawl and my scarf. He was impressed at my beard’s length and spun-gold texture. Unbraided, unfurled, it reached down the front of my young breasts and curled under my arms. After I signed a contract, two gruff looking men dragged my modest foot locker down a row of dorm tents and let it dropped it with a bang outside a faded white and red striped canvas shelter.
“Who is it?” a gruff woman demanded from within. I took a breath and ventured forth. My eyes adjusted to the dimness. Finally, I made out a figure of a woman sitting a cot. What looked like green-brown rope was wound her arms and wove behind her neck.
“Who are you?” The woman hissed.
“I am Kari,” I couldn’t keep my eyes off the cords pulsating on her thick arms. I jumped when the small diamond shaped head appeared from under her arm pit.
“I, I am to share living quarters,” I said, still watching the snake.
“Oh? I’m Shivrah. This is Baby,” she crooned and lifted the massive coils from her arm. Shivrah grinned at me, offering her snake.
“Uh, I think I’ll unpack first,” I said, mustering my courage. I popped back out into the sunshine and dragged my trunk inside.
“What’s your shtick?” Shivrah asked. “You got a lizard or something in that trunk? You tell fortunes?”
“Oh, No.” I said, quickly removing my scarf. “Here,” I pulled out my own coils I had repositioned down the front of my blouse. Still warm, I held tendril to Shivrah keeping my distance from Baby’s flashing tongue.
“Wow! It’s really attached?” Shivrah gave a quick, hard yank.
“Of course it is!” I jumped back and rubbed my chin. I swallowed hard.
“I’m goin’ out for a smoke. Maybe a snort. You wanna come?”
Eager to explore, I pushed my trunk under my cot and followed Shivrah out through the flaps.
One thought on “Bearded Lady”
Love it! You could really develop this into a full-length (no pun) story or even a novel, with the oddities as metaphor. Perhaps, is it possible–did this come from the chin-hair bead? 😀