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Life and style

09.22.17 Merchant Services

Sex Dust and vampire repellent: a stroll through Gwyneth Paltrow’s new LA store

Visitors to Goop Lab, the first permanent brick-and-mortar store to feature the actors lifestyle brand, found themselves in something akin to heaven

In the apothecary section, two young women were inspecting shelves with detox kits, Sex Dust, psychic vampire repellent and a shamanic pouch with healing stones that included the goddess stone chrysocolla.

In the kitchen area, a mother and her toddler daughter were leafing through coffee table books with titles like Foraged Flora, Sunday Suppers and Dinner Diaries: Reviving the Art of the Hostess.

Lilli Lee was in the living room area with her friends flicking through a clothes rack and lingered over a pair of lime-green trousers. She examined the price tag. Three hundred dollars. Oh, am I in trouble?

Lee wasnt in trouble. She was in Gwyneth Paltrows new Los Angeles store, the alpha zen actors first permanent brick-and-mortar space of her lifestyle brand Goop, and apparently that felt pretty close to being in heaven.

Its just beautiful, said Lee, 43, indicating the antique mantle, chandelier and blue and magenta wall coverings all inspired, like the rest of the store, by the dcor of a nearby bungalow owned by Paltrow.

The store, called Goop Lab, opened this week in Brentwood Country Mart, a cluster of boutiques in a plush, celebrity-filled neighbourhood near the Pacific Ocean which likes to call malls marts.

The shop is airy, bright and small, just 1,300 sq feet, with soft music and smiling, white-clad staff a physical embodiment of the online store that inspires devotion for Paltrows vision of wellness and scorn for products such as jade stones which women are invited to insert into their vaginas.

The
The dining room area of Gwyneth Paltrows Goop Lab store in Los Angeles. Photograph: Rory Carroll for the Guardian

Its all been choreographed by GP, said Heather Taylor, a store manager, using a term of affection for her boss. All the products are clean. They have nothing that could be harmful to the body.

Some, however, may disembowel the wallet.

The entrance, which mimics a garden, offers buttery and soft deerskin gloves for $48, gold-handled floral scissors for $72 and the prettiest compost bin ever for $175.

Sex
Sex Dust, priced $38 per jar, for sale at Goop Lab in Los Angeles. Photograph: Rory Carroll for the Guardian

Further inside, you find a pair of Portuguese napkin rings with images of sky blue swallows for $56 and a champagne flute for $180. A silk blouse costs $685; a floral dress $795.

The kitchen area is centred around an ivory and brass LaCanche oven where Goop food editors are due to cook and provide demonstrations. Paltrows image beams from the cover of her book, Its All Good: Delicious Weekday Recipes for the Super-Busy Home Cook ($34).

To the stores guests they are not called customers it was all good. Goop, which Paltrow started as a newsletter in 2008 and turned into a global brand, now had a sanctum: the artfully arranged flowers, the whimsical dcor, the wares which promised to stop ageing and banish bad vibes.

I think its all pretty positive and uplifting, said Heidi Brecker, 36, a longtime fan, as she browsed some dresses . Goop helps keep you young and fresh and vibrant. Brecker, it should be noted, looked about 26.

The stores vibe reminded her of London, where she used to live. It feels very Westbourne Grove.

One can only speculate what Little Nell would have made of a curiosity shop where nothing is supposed to grow old.

Brentwood Country Mart is sufficiently LA to have a sign in the car park reminding visitors theyre not at the beach: Wear shirts and shoes. Leave dogs outside No skateboards or rollerblades.

During the Guardians visit, all Goops customers were slender white women, save the toddler, who seemed destined to become one. She rummaged through the kitchenware, picking items at random. What have you got there, honey? asked her mom. Nice! You have good taste.

Some guests came out of curiosity, but all felt Goops magic, said Taylor, the manager. Nobody can come here and not buy anything. Everybody leaves with something.

Walmart and Debenhams take note: options in the apothecary included jars of Sex Dust, a lusty edible formula alchemized to ignite and excite sexy energy in and out of the bedroom ($38) and bottles of psychic vampire repellent, comprising sonically tuned gem elixirs ($30).

Psychic
Psychic vampire repellent, priced $30 per bottle, for sale at Goop Lab. Photograph: Rory Carroll for the Guardian

The medicine bag pebbles included black obsidian for grounding and protection, carnelian for support for female issues, lapis lazuli for the speaking of ones truth and clear quartz for connection with your higher self, intuition and spirit guides ($85). There was no sign of vaginal jade stones.

Kitchenware included a $50 rolling pin with wood apparently reclaimed from the Atlantic City Boardwalk, a type of rare south American hardwood some of which is extinct today, according to Goops website. All products, it says, are designed to let people shop with meaning.

Goop collaborated with the design firm Roman and Williams to mix custom and vintage dcor, Brittany Pattner, Goops experiential creative director, said via email. Our headquarters are a short drive away from the store, so we see it as an extension of our home. A lab of sorts for us to experiment in, connect with our community of readers and shoppers.

Goop had plans for further retail expansion, Pattner added. We hope to share more news about that soon.

Read more: https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2017/sep/22/sex-dust-and-vampire-repellent-a-stroll-through-gwyneth-paltrows-new-la-store

09.21.17 Telecom

No business, no boozing, no casual sex: when Togo turned off the internet | Mawuna Koutonin

When young people started mobilising online against Togos president, the state switched off the internet. In the week that followed, people talked more, worked harder and had less sex all of which proved bad news for the government

On 5 September, at about 10am, the government of Togo cut off the internet. The plan was to limit the threat from a growing number of young people around the country who were mobilising online and talking of toppling the government.

Faure
Togos president, Faure Gnassingb, at the presidential palace in Lom following confirmation of his third term in office, in 2015. Photograph: Issouf Sanogo/AFP/Getty Images

Throughout August, opposition parties in Togo had been organising protests as frustration grew over the reluctance of the ruling Gnassingb family to relinquish the power they have held for 50 years.

With more protests planned for the beginning of September, Gnassingbs government which his political opponents have long sought to oust took action. The internet was closed for business. Text messages were blocked and international calls filtered.

Leaving aside politics, it was a unique opportunity to observe the effect of internet deprivation on a country. During the week-long shutdown, I talked to friends. I interviewed strangers. For many, especially the young, it was a first taste of how state power could affect their personal life.

Initially, people were confused. Some tried restarting their phones or computers. Internet subscriptions were renewed and mobile data plans topped up. Telecom company employees were accused of the usual appropriation of credits, while engineers were branded incompetent.

After a few hours, though, the penny dropped: we realised the government had shut down the internet.

For many people in Togo, the internet is WhatsApp. People went online or bought a smartphone just for WhatsApp. In many encounters, Id say, They cut off the internet, and people would respond, Yes, WhatsApp is not working. So the local lexicon had to be enriched with this new word, the internet, as radio and TV reports talked about the situation.

On that first evening, bars and restaurants were deserted. People were afraid. They talked of keeping money in case things went wrong, in case the the banks closed or the government was unable to pay wages. Many among the upper middle class rushed to the bank to stockpile cash. But nothing was working during the first hours, because the internet had been cut.

In all likelihood, sexual activity also dropped off. WhatsApp is the countrys biggest dating app and casual sex is commonplace. Togo has high youth unemployment and the economic situation is harsh, but there is a culture of sexual freedom. Marriage is as rare as diamonds nowadays, while sexual vagabondage is well tolerated and well spread.

One friend said the internet shutdown had moved the dating market upscale. With WhatsApp, penniless guys would send women virtual flowers and rings. Now, they had to find money to buy real ones. Men who previously sought to impress ladies by copying and pasting cute quotes and images on social media now had to go out, bring friends together in a bar, pay the bill and prove their real verbal and intellectual skills.

Another surprising effect was that productivity rocketed. Togolese people, from civil servants to police officers, often need to be dragged away from WhatsApp; now, they could get on with their work. Outside the workplace, without smartphones as a distraction, and with free time forcibly laid before them, people started talking to one another more; they walked in parks, enjoyed the outdoors.

A couple of days in, I was conducting a technical workshop. The attention level in the room was close to that within a Buddhist temple. At the end, an attendee came to me and said she had never felt so engaged during a seminar. She wondered whether it was because of my performance or because there was no internet to distract her.

Anti-government
Anti-government protesters sit on a street in Lom as they keep an all-night vigil to press for constitutional reform. Photograph: Pius Utomi Ekpei/AFP/Getty Images

Interest in reading surged. It was heartwarming to see restless kids and adults embracing dusty books and magazines . Spontaneous conversation with strangers surged; asking about the status of the internet became the equivalent of Have you got a light? a conversation starter.

Social gatherings improved dramatically. Conversations were lively, as they had been in the days before social media. That old thing called family dinner lasted longer. Without interruptions, it felt as though people were more caring, more available to each other. Was this just nostalgia?

After a week, the government abruptly switched the internet back on. For thousands of businesses and professionals who depended on the web for work, it had been a highly stressful period. The shutdown had undermined their faith in the fragile digital transition. Companies that had moved their core business applications into the cloud could neither access their tools nor retrieve their data. Virtual business, it turned out, might not be suitable for dictatorship-prone countries. . We have yet to get a broad sense of the impact of unanswered urgent emails and lost opportunities.

Families who depend on remittances through Western Union or MoneyGram all suffered too; they could not get the codes to retrieve their money and the banks couldnt serve them.

The government could have been smarter. The best way to divert our youth from politics would have been to give them free, unlimited internet access a few days before the protests, and drop the price of beer and condoms all the while playing Be safe, live long songs on the radios. The youngies would have been watching porn, WhatsApping and YouTubing, and would have been too distracted to think about politics.

Shutting down the internet achieved the opposite. Far from limiting youth mobilisation, it galvanised word of mouth and turned many neutrals against the regime. To young people for whom the internet had become so much part of the daily routine, the shutdown felt like an intrusion, a burglary of their personal life.

Previously preoccupied mostly by sex and alcohol during the long two months of the school vacation, our youth were bloated with testosterone and boosted by a huge surge in political consciousness. They started gathering, talking to each other, commenting on the moves and motives of political leaders. The shutdown brought more people into the political stream.

It was also a lightning rod for discontent among foreign business people living in Togo. They were suddenly denied their preferred channel of communication, making it impossible for them to reach out to families and friends back home. Naturally, most joined the chorus of opposition to a regime whose largesse they had previously enjoyed.

Anti-government
Anti-government protesters in Lom gather around a scrawled message saying: Faure should leave. Photograph: Pius Utomi Ekpei/AFP/Getty Images

I now have an experience to boast about; Im a member of an exclusive club of countries that shut down the internet without going back to the stone age. Tell me, how many people in the world have lived under a dictator who could shut down the internet on a whim? My country just entered the Guinness World Records book as one of the top dictatorships. Any fame is better than no fame.

In the end, the shutdown was overwhelming stressful and negative. It was like living in a open prison: you could not reach out to your loved ones and they could not reach out to you, because someone had decided so, and was actively enforcing it against your will. Our lives have moved online to the point where an internet blackout is like a high security prison.

Its not because one could have more time to read books when in prison that we should hail prisons.

Read more: https://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2017/sep/21/no-business-no-boozing-no-casual-sex-when-togo-turned-off-the-internet

09.19.17 Credit Cards

Would you kill my mother for me?: a dark case of abuse and revenge

Dee Dee Blanchard forced her healthy daughter Gypsy to use a wheelchair and fabricated endless medical emergencies for her. Then Gypsy found a boyfriend, and made a grisly plan to escape her mother and start a new life. Erin Lee Carr tells a deeply disturbing story of Munchausen by proxy and murder

I have four VHS tapes in a large ziplock bag. They are family home movies, but not of my family. The label of one tape reads simply Gypsy. A little girl appears in the centre of the frame, her eyes are large and brown, her hair almost white blonde. She is gazing up at the camera, asking for Mama.

Born in Louisiana in 1991, Gypsy Rose Blanchard was raised solely by her mother, who was known by family and friends as Dee Dee. When the baby was three months old, Dee Dee told doctors that she didnt seem to be breathing properly. Gypsy was diagnosed with sleep apnoea and given breathing apparatus. Dee Dee was convinced that something else was wrong. When Gypsy was seven, Dee Dee met with her extended family and told them the bad news. The little girl had a chromosomal disorder and her range of motion was limited so using a wheelchair would be a necessity. After that, the health troubles seemed endless. A feeding tube was put in when Gypsys weight was too low. When she was diagnosed with epilepsy, the doctors prescribed the drug Tegretol, which made her teeth crumble from inside her mouth. Gypsys grandparents wondered to each other if their granddaughter would even make it to adulthood.

Dee Dee often clashed with her family about Gypsy and the care that she thought the girl needed. After it was discovered that Dee Dee had opened up credit cards in her fathers name, she left her familys house in the middle of the night, leaving no forwarding address.

Gypsy
Living a lie: despite her many supposed health problems, when prison doctors recently examined her Gypsy was given a clean bill of health

Later, Gypsy and Dee Dee were forced to move from Louisiana to Missouri when Hurricane Katrina ruined their modest apartment. Dee Dee added an e to Blanchard and reinvented herself. In Springfield, Missouri, Dee Dee was known as a generous, God- fearing caretaker of a sick little girl. According to neighbours and family members, Gypsy and Dee Dee were best friends, one never seen without the other. At local events, they would be spotted chatting noisily with fellow neighbours, smiling and holding hands. True, the illnesses seemed rough on the family, and they needed all the help they could get, but they got through it without complaining. They had Jesus on their side.

Dee Dee and Gypsy appeared on local TV news shows, the perfect feelgood story for the community. Dee Dee talked about how grateful she was for the hospital treating Gypsy, and that she would be lost without them. Nonetheless, Dee Dee was sure to leverage her daughters sick condition to enjoy the maximum amount of kindness from strangers.

When she was seven, Gypsy was crowned queen for the day during a local Mardi Gras parade. As she grew older, the pair were gifted several trips to Walt Disney World. Money was an issue. Dee Dee hadnt worked since Gypsy was a baby Gypsy was home-schooled, as her mother said the girl was developmentally challenged. When mother and daughter were given backstage passes to a Miranda Lambert concert, Dee Dee orchestrated a photo op between the star and the little girl, and Lambert would end up sending Dee Dee a series of cheques, totalling $6,000.

The hospital visits grew exponentially and, in the videos, Gypsy looks like she was ageing in reverse. Pictures from 2015 show a Gypsy who looks like a little old lady rather than the young woman she hoped to become.

It was a difficult and painful life, but the teenager got through it with her passion for Disney films. She watched Beauty and the Beast, Tangled and Lilo & Stitch on repeat, losing herself in cartoon daydreams. The world was a colourful and beautiful one, where the princess always got rescued and the villain always got what she deserved.

Fairytale
Fairytale princess: Gypsy loved Disney films and she and her mum were gifted many trips to Walt Disney World

In 2013, Gypsy decided it was time to try to find her own prince. She created a profile on a site called Christiandatingforfree.com. After a couple of lacklustre responses to her winks, sent on the site, she received a message from a young man named Nicholas Godejohn who thought she seemed pure. After a couple of conversations, they knew they had found true love. Gypsy explained that she was in a wheelchair, but led a very active and fulfilling life. She was worried her honesty had ruined her chances with such a young, good-looking guy. Much to her surprise, he told her he didnt mind.

The online communication intensified between Nick and Gypsy. He requested that she always be sure to capitalise his name and be respectful towards him at all times. In order to hide the relationship from Dee Dee, they shared a private Facebook page where they could post messages for one another. Nick kept angling for an in-person meeting but Gypsy was terrified what would he think when he saw her in her wheelchair? There was something she had to tell him before they made the IRL leap: a terrible secret.

When I met her in 2016, for the documentary I made about her life, Gypsy told me how nervous shed been, calling him. He was the first person to whom shed revealed the truth she didnt need the wheelchair, her mum forced her to use it. She could walk just fine, but no one could ever know the truth.

They moved forward with their love affair. Nick and Gypsy met in person in early 2015 for a screening of Cinderella at a local Missouri cinema. Gypsy went with her mum and planned the rendezvous to look as if she was just meeting Nick for the first time, and they snuck away to consummate the relationship in the bathroom. When Gypsy got out, her mother was furious and forbade her from ever seeing Nick again.

On 14 June 2015 Dee Dee and Gypsys Facebook status was changed to THAT BITCH IS DEAD. In the comment section it read, I fucken SLASHED THAT FAT PIG AND RAPED HER SWEET INNOCENT DAUGHTER HER SCREAM WAS SOOOO FUCKEN LOUD LOL. Dee Dee was found murdered in her pink bedroom, the duvet piled on the body as if to hide it from view.

Gypsy
In handcuffs in prison: Gypsy took a plea deal and received a 10-year sentence for the crime of second-degree murder

After the Cinderella screening, Gypsy told me, her mum had become less of a best friend and more of a cruel captor. Gypsy felt weak and helpless, as if all the doors were shutting in front of her. This feeling made her ask Nick a desperate, terrible question. Would you kill my mother for me?

She said they would call it Plan B and it would take place on 12 June 2015. Dee Dees killing was graphic and bloody. Gypsy claims Nick entered their pink Habitat for Humanity (a housing charity) house late that night and says she handed him the blue gloves and giant serrated knife. Afterwards, he texted her to get your ass to the bathroom, and she claims she obeyed dutifully, crouching on the floor naked, listening to her mum being murdered mercilessly by her boyfriend. This was not the Disney movie she was expecting her life to be. But at last she could be free well, for a couple of days.

The couple fled to Wisconsin, to his parents house where they planned on starting a new life. Worried that her mothers body would rot, Gypsy decided it would be best to write a confession on Dee Dee and Gypsys shared Facebook page to alert authorities. She hoped that the police would assume a random person had done the killing. But the police traced the IP address of the Facebook status to Big Bend, Wisconsin and her story fell apart right away. At first, she lied to investigators and said she had nothing to do with it. They knew better.

Gypsy tells me all this the same day she pleads guilty to the second-degree murder of her mother. She can now speak freely, without fear of further legal repercussions. At 2pm, she walks into the darkened courtroom, set up for our interview. She has attempted a braid on the right side of her head, but the hair has fused together giving a her a harsh appearance. She is 24 years old, much older than many who knew her realised. Dee Dee registered her with different birth dates. There is no hot water in the jail, which has made it impossible to shower. I unclip a hairpin from my own head and make a move to help her, but the bailiff calls out to me: no touching.

Partners
Partners in crime: Nick Godejohn and Gypsy. The pair met online on a Christian dating site and soon realised how compatible they were. Photograph: AP

My first question to her is a simple one: How would you describe your mum? She looks down and thinks hard for a couple of seconds and then smiles and says: Unique? If I had to say one word about her it would be overprotective.

Gypsy is a mystery explaining another mystery to me. During the pre-trial hearings, much is hinted about Gypsy inheriting her mothers duplicity. After careful investigation I just dont believe that she set out to murder her mother and cover it up. That would have been a simple story this is anything but. Gypsy was a young woman who lived in a false reality. Her life was filled with public playfulness and private abuse. There is no way for us to know what it was like inside that little pink house, nor would it be fair to judge her actions.

When I spoke to Gypsy in interviews at the local jail, she said Dee Dee had told her that her father, Rod, had abandoned them. In fact, it emerged, Dee Dee hid Gypsy from her father for years, promising visits that were always cancelled at the last second due to Gypsys medical emergencies. According to Rod, whom I interviewed on tape, he was careful to send her Christmas and birthday gifts. He would find out later that Dee Dee would open them and present them to Gypsy as if they were gifts from herself. And still, Gypsy tells me that she misses her mother. For a long time, Dee Dee was the only other person in her life. Her mum created her reality of the world, as many parents do.

Gypsy took a plea deal and received a 10-year sentence for the crime of second-degree murder. Prosecutor Dan Patterson cited her medical and physical abuse as being a huge mitigator and the reason for receiving such an unusually light sentence. Many have brought up the notion of self-defence as a response to this case. The slaying did not happen during an altercation: it appears to have been planned and she alleges it was executed in the middle of the night by a man whom Dee Dee had only met once.

The law could not see it as self-defence, and nor could Gypsy. After taking the plea, Gypsy told me that it is a comfort to know she will be out in under 10 years she was frantic about the possibility of receiving life in prison. Her remaining family believe the sentence to be harsh and wonder what would have happened had she gone to trial. Nick, the person who is accused of actually committing the grisly act, is still awaiting trial in Missouri. There have been numerous discussions about his mental competency. The former couple do not communicate at all.

When Gypsy first arrived at the Greene County Jail she was sent to the infirmary to determine the best course of treatment for her epilepsy and the myriad other illnesses she had been treated for her entire life. The doctor gave her a clean bill of health.

It wasnt just the wheelchair that was a lie, it was everything. Gypsy will be eligible for parole in 2024. I finished filming in 2016, but I cant stop thinking about her, and wondering what other tapes were left behind.

Mommy Dead and Dearest, directed by Erin Lee Carr, is available from 4 September on iTunes

Read more: https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2017/aug/27/would-you-kill-my-mother-for-me-murder-abuse-film-crime-erin-lee-carr

09.06.17 Lessons Learned

The bald truth about shaving off pubic hair | Eva Wiseman

More people than ever are opting to go without pubic hair. But what you dont know is how many are injuring themselves in the process, says Eva Wiseman

The revelations in a new American report on pubic grooming just keep on coming. Perhaps its no surprise to you that 76% of people get rid of their pubic hair. Evict it, extract it, uproot it, remove it. Perhaps you too keep a pube-free home, and pride yourself on a paved front lawn, so to speak.

So to speak. Im sorry for the so to speak, which is something one says instead of a winky emoji, isnt it? Or in case the person youre talking to might have missed your half-joke about the lawn. Why did I write that? It must have been to distance myself from the subject which, even in 2017, makes me feel slightly uncomfortable, the idea of all these people spending all this time removing all this hair. And all the dandruff-like flakes of titillation that come with a headline that is genital-adjacent, and all that hair, drifting down toilets to clothe a fatberg, all that hair, matting itself into a jolly throw, for a winter in the sewer. I will keep it in quotation marks so that I can have it all, the discomfort, the distance, and the semi-joke.

Anyway thats not even one of the revelations. Most Americans get rid of their pubes almost 67% of men and just over 85% of women. Fine. If they prefer a pubis that could be mistaken for Stanley Tucci kneeling down to plug his phone in, then who am I to judge? Also, Bros are back! The revelation that stunned me was one hidden in the depths of the data, where few dared to dig. And it revealed that, rather than the thriving industry reality shows would have us believe, waxing salons cater only to a tiny proportion of pube-removers, with only 4% visiting professionals. Whats far more common, at 9%, is for them to get their partners to do it.

Again, my face right now, a sort of Munchian scream, probably reveals me to be the kind of prudish matron that carries doilies with which to cover up seductive table legs. But mates, what, you call him from the bathroom? Jonathan? JONATHAN. My question is, who is that trimmed baldness for, if the only person intended to see it is also the person responsible for monitoring the stubble and extracting the ingrown hairs? For the wearer alone? Sure, but what magical messaging must have been ingrained at 13 years old for 76% of people to feel uncomfortable unless their bum-hairs been stripped away with a roar?

There was a fascinating detail in a YouGov study last year, finding that a relatively small 56% of women believed they should remove their pubic hair, but 72% of them got rid of it anyway. Which was another drip into the water-butt of depression that irrigates my communal garden of feminine shame.

But wait, the main revelation, and indeed the point of the research itself, is that 26% of those who groomed reported that they had sustained at least one injury while doing so. Three per cent of the time [adults] are coming into the emergency department with a genitourinary injury, its with a grooming injury, said Benjamin Breyer, a urologist, and co-author of the study. The state of us. Far be it from me to attempt a John Oliver-style monologue swiftly summing up the problem with x through witty use of facts and swear words in a way that means you will never think muddily again, but BURNS? Of the groomers, 1.4% experienced injuries so severe that they had to seek medical attention. Again, JONATHAN! The injuries varied from cuts, which accounted for 61% of accidents, to burns from hair-removal creams, which took up 23% of the reported injuries; 2.5% said they needed surgical intervention to drain abscesses or close sutures, for example. A pause, to get used to your new life, where you know this, this that you can never unknow.

Because its difficult, after learning the truth, not to look around at our fellow man, the waiter walking gingerly towards the table, the teacher sitting down with care, and imagine the carnival of destruction behind their flies. These burned-out wrecks of once-fast cars, these sites of special scientific interest, now littered with picnic remains and patches of weeping fuchsia. I used to do awful things to my sisters Barbies, but never this. Never this.

Email Eva at e.wiseman@observer.co.uk or follow her on Twitter @EvaWiseman

Read more: https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2017/aug/27/the-bald-truth-about-shaving-off-pubic-hair

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