This piece has been inspired by a group of lovely ladies who I met through a gaming site (yes; ladies are gamers too. Surprise!) and who all openly talk about female issues and generally make each other laugh. The title of this blog was dreamed up by a lady who we shall call Finess.
From grey hair to stray hair, women seem to have to worry about a lot when it comes down to appearance, but I come bearing news.
Women are hairy. It is official. We might colour our hair and we might shave certain body parts, but we do go grey and we are hairy. Some of us not only laugh about it, but we even embrace it as a part of growing older. Some men are even quite accepting of female hairiness; I know that my husband is. He’s certainly not accepting in a nasty fetishy way, but I don’t feel the need to hide the fact from him that I occasionally have to shave my chin either.
Husband from the hallway: “Are you all right up there?”
Me from spare room, with epilator buzzing: “I’m fine; I can’t go out to WI with a hairy chin though”
Husband: “Oh, okay; I was just checking”
Well there’s no point in pretending it’s a vibrator he can hear, is there? We have one vibrator and it has only been used twice because the real thing is so much better – and I wouldn’t exactly be using it prior to going to a Women’s Institute meeting.
He even knows not to ever, ever mention the stubble; because even though there’s no hiding or pretending, I will still be embarrassed because I’ve been conditioned that way.
But why should any woman feel ashamed of her natural body hair?
Sometimes I allow myself to be Queen Kong. The last time I went swimming I could feel my leg hairs waving about in the water. I hadn’t forgotten to shave my legs; I’m simply not that bothered about shaving them. Actually, that was not an unpleasant sensation.
All of my body hair grows quickly. Each time I have my hair cut my stylist has to trim at least three inches off – and that’s if I go to the salon regularly.
So imagine what the ladygarden must be like? If I let it do its own thing I could have braids down to my knees in that area, or a nice 70’s afro. The last time I decided to go weeding “down there” I discovered David Bellamy and a lost tribe. Since none of them were able to breathe in such a thick habitat they were all extremely grateful to me. I’m still waiting on my medal from Her Maj, but I’m still young enough that I won’t crumble into dust when she finally gets around to me.
Guys, what did you think tweezers were really for? Manicures? Well, that’s what some women want you to believe, but we have scissors for hangnails and such. Tweezers are for controlling errant eyebrows (including plucking silver threads, but I use my fingers) and removing that white chin hair that suddenly just appeared.
Now I’m going off to shave my chin.