So I'm finding that these blogs are turning out to be less about what I'm doing, and more about what I'm discovering about myself. I hope that's okay, because whether you like them or not, they've been extremely therapeutic for me. This edition, we focus on body hair, and America's apparent obsession with it.
I decided a few weeks ago that I'm done shaving my armpits. I'm just not going to do it anymore. I have sensitive skin to begin with, and my armpit skin is even more so. But I've finally reached the point where I'm done with having itchy, rashy, irritable pits...conditions brought about in the interest of having completely hairless armpits. And really, even with shaving, they're never completely hairless. Armpits are a pain in the patoot to shave...the hair grows in all directions, and it's nearly impossible to get it all without cutting oneself or just giving up entirely. And then there's the razor burn. And the stinging and the subsequent rash as the deodorant is applied to freshly shorn skin. I'm just over it.
That's not to say that I'm just going to let it all grow out and turn into a wookie. I have a trimmer, and it does a fine job. And honestly, outside of myself, I can't imagine my pits are anyone else's business. It's not like I walk around in sleeveless shirts with my arms raised above my head at a constant. And even if I did...still no one's business, and I can't imagine that my underarms would personally affect a person's day in the slightest.
One thing I've found interesting about this whole phenomenon has been people's response to it. Not to the hair, but to my proclamation that I'm not going to shave it off anymore. 90% of the time (statistic made up on the spot), people ask me how Simon feels about it. How Simon felt about it never really entered my thoughts when I made the initial decision, but everyone else's apprehension made me ponder if maybe it should have. Should my body hair, or lack thereof, be a joint decision between the two of us? Is he likely to find me less attractive, or even break up with me, over the simple issue of body hair?
So I asked him if me not shaving my pits anymore would be an issue between us. I wish I had a picture of the look on his face, because it made me realize even more how perfect this man is for me. He was incredulous, and said that he couldn't care less what I do with my armpits. In fact, given that shaving my pits made me itchy, rashy, and uncomfortable, he agreed that I should stop shaving them in the interest of having one less thing to make me irritable. Of course, he said that should I stop maintaining the Beav, then there might be issues. Which is understandable...it's a part of my body that he interacts with, unlike my armpits. But then I got this goofy idea...what if I did grow out the Beav? Just big and gnarly...and then put on a little bathing suit and go hang out on the beach. Count the number of times people's gazes gravitate to my pubic area, taking into account how many of those gazes were followed by looks of disgust. It would be an interesting social experiment. But I could just buy a Merkin for that...no need to jeopardize my relationship over a pubic hair experiment.
Which got me thinking about other people's relationships, and if body hair is truly a threat to them. Are there are men out there who would not be okay under any circumstances should their girlfriends or wives decide to stop shaving? Even if shaving made them miserable? Even if shaving was the most trivial hiccup between them as a couple? And then I thought about it one step further...how many women out there would be too nervous to stop shaving, thinking that their men would find them unattractive, accuse them of "letting themselves go," and leave them? Do other couples have honest conversations about body hair? Or is the assumption made that less body hair is best because that's the way it's always been? Do relationships truly struggle or end due to body hair? It's kind of a sad culture we live in when naturally occurring body hair can be so polarizing and offensive. I wonder how many people reading this will wrinkle up their noses in disgust, thinking that I'm now this gross hairy beast with poor hygiene.
I've struggled with body hair for almost my entire life. It was something that I was incredibly self conscious about for more years than I can count. When I was younger, I had very dark hair on my arms and legs...I'm a dark-haired, dark eyed, olive skinned person...it stands to reason that I would have dark body hair. I shaved my legs for the first time when I was in fifth grade. Of course I cut myself and it stung like the dickens, but I loved my smooth, tan legs. And what I loved even more was the fact that the boys in school couldn't make fun of me for hairy legs anymore. They just made fun of my hairy arms instead. They would point at my arms and loudly proclaim, "You have really hairy arms." As if it was something be ashamed of. As if it was something I didn't already know. As if having hairy arms was some sort of accessory that I chose to go along with my wardrobe for the day. So I started shaving those too. When I was 16 and I had my first job at a grocery store, I would spend the equivalent of one-two paychecks going to a salon in Rochester to have my arms waxed. 16 years old. So merciless were those assholes in my school that not only was I was willing to spend entire paychecks removing my body hair, but I was willing to put up with how uncomfortable and painful the waxing process is. It's sad. And you know, my mom always told me that one day the hair would become thinner and lighter, and that in the summer when I was tan, the hair was barely noticeable. And I didn't believe her. And of course she was right. I don't even notice my arm hair anymore. It's just there, hanging out doing its thing.
I feel like I'm turning into some sort of hippie. First I blog about reusable menstrual supplies, and now I'm blogging about body hair. I think I've just reached a point in my life where I'm just too darn busy and active to care about the little, trivial things any more. I'm minimizing my personal belongings, and in the process, I'm also minimizing certain things about myself as a person. I just can't be bothered to care about body hair when I'm seriously considering the logistics of living out of an RV in some other state come this time next year. I have way more pressing things that need my attention than some wayward hairs under my arms. And there it is.
Next time you see me, you're going to be wondering about my armpit hair, just like you probably already wonder if I have a menstrual cup in. Hahaha! My life has always been about TMI...blogging just gives me the vehicle to reach the masses. Enjoy. :)
No comments:
Post a Comment