I took this photo several months ago (obviously, I’m blonde now) and sent it to my sister for a laugh. I asked her if I should share it on instagram and whilst she thought it was funny she advised against it, a little too much information. I saved it anyway and I’m glad I did because tonight it couldn’t be more appropriate.
One of the younger ladies in Aussie Curves brought up the topic of excess hair. You could tell she was pained by the whole ordeal and was frightfully embarrassed. It just made me want to reach through the computer screen and hug her, tell her everything would be ok and that a little extra hair isn’t going to devalue her, it’s just a part of who she is.
I’m blessed with genetics that make me a little fuzzier than “normal”, I’ve accepted it. I met my Grandma Dorothy a few times before she passed away and I see more and more of her in me as I get older. She had hormone and weight issues, thick facial hair, crazy “wild woman” locks as I do and the same squinty eyes as me when she smiled.
During puberty I was aware of every hair stemming from my body, in the “good” places and the “bad” places. I remember the “cool” girls from school mentioning that they shaved the hair from their big toes because they thought it looked gross. I grew up in the NT so thongs were the standard issue. I remember I raced home and locked myself in the bathroom as soon as I got home. There were probably three faint short blonde hairs at that stage but now, today, years later I can thank that conversation for my Hobbit feet.
Teenagers, leave your bloody toe hair alone. It’s not gross, it’s natural.
The same goes for lip hair. Yep, I said it. The girly mo. The ‘stachette.
My hair is fair, I got “lucky” so growing up it never really bugged me. I was always aware of it but Steve had no idea what I was talking about so I put it out of my mind. It wasn’t until after I had Aidan and I was suffering really badly from my Endometriosis. I was taken into my specialist and he prescribed the pill. Within three weeks my hair started to fall out in large disastrous clumps (not for the faint hearted) and as an added bonus I grew a beard.
Just breathe than info in for a second.
A fashion + vanity + lifestyle blogger had a beard, not to mention the matching ‘stachette. Steve noticed this time. I was at a point where I’d never hated my body more but I did so silently because, this stuff was just too much information. It’s not glossy or sexy or inspiring, it sucks.
Obviously I was off it swiftly and haven’t touched hormones since and slowly things went back to normal, even the ‘stachette but the thing was, I couldn’t stop seeing it. It was no longer there but I was grossly aware of it. I convinced myself it ruined the look of my make up, even though it had never bothered me before. I convinced myself that Steve could see it clearly now and he’s no longer find me attractive. I convinced myself that I wouldn’t be taken seriously at work because let’s face it, even the nicest girls can be bitches.
I was in a hate spiral with facial hair so I waxed it. I’ll deal with it I said, it wont grow back that bad I said all the time thinking of my poor Hobbit feet. I was so happy it was gone, I felt lighter, more beautiful and sexy. Obviously I was delusional. Getting rid of something “abnormal” or “gross” doesn’t transfer you from the unpopular box to the popular. Let me blow your mind for a second…
… there are no boxes, just a lot of hairy people wandering around the earth comparing themselves to others to no end.
The funny thing is, I can’t wax anymore as I break out into little pimples. I’ve tried different places, different waxes and it happens every time without fail so I had to choose between a fuzzy lip or a pimply one… hmm.
Eventually I discovered a dissolving cream that didn’t stink too bad and was good for sensitive skin. Once or twice a month you’ll find me in my bathroom for 3-7 minutes like this. Staring at myself in the mirror while it does it’s thing wondering why I care so much. How much of my life have I wasted thinking about my lip hair let alone dealing with it? Why is hairless some form of perfection? The answer is I shouldn’t and it’s not.
I have a chin hair named “Ethel” and it’s at this point that I’d like to remind you that I’m 28.
She pops out every 2-3 months. Hiding in the shadows underneath my chin, she’s like a ninja lying in wait. Almost invisible to the naked eye but if you don’t keep an eye out for her she gets loooong. Did I mention I’m sexy and confident and full of myself? Ethel doesn’t stop any of that, a quick pluck and she’s gone.
Hair in all it’s forms is real life. Yeah it’s a pain for most (literally) but it’s a natural part of us. Having more or less of it wont define our spirit or devalue our contribution to society or our relationships. Sure, find ways to groom yourself as you see fit and explore all the different removal options but please don’t feel like you’re being forced to do it and if you are don’t listen.
My routine: I choose to shave my legs, get my eyebrows waxed and dissolve my lip hair all in one go once or twice a month and I shave my underarms once or twice a week. I don’t mess with my lady garden because it’s naturally neat. I’m not dirty or gross, that’s just an average of how long I can let things slide before I start to feel uncomfortable within myself and before I feel anyone would really notice. The hair on my head… that’s a whole different story for another day.
How do you deal with fuzz?