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Whilst browsing through a selection of shows I could watch online, considering I don't ever really watch TV I was pleased to see I had a section dedicated to shows recommended for me. Well, I thought to myself, how kind of someone to match up what I usually watch to other things that may interest me. These shows namely being 8 out of 10 cats and My big fat Gypsy wedding. I was looking forward to a promising selection of aptly relevant programmes to tickle my pickle, in some way. It was a promising start. A comedy show, another of my trashy, 'look at the pretty colour' shows and then I saw it. It was charming, yet a little presuming. Funny, yet painfully depressing. The final show I had been recommended was 'Hairy women'. Of course, you can sense my absolute joy of seeing this.
It lead me to watch it, through avid fascination solely because I am a woman and I have hair. I felt this qualified me entirely to watch this. I got half way through before my grunting and moaning started. I can't help it. When something makes me that passionate I just have to let it out. (Dear Reader, please note my passionate moans were simply annoyance as opposed to anything your dirty minds may have dreamt up!) I listened to woman upon woman say how having hair on their body was disgusting and shouldn't be acceptable. Strange that, as women, we are expected to remove our hair yet it's okay for men to just groom theirs. Style their hair in to bizarre patterns on their face. Odd. Very odd. Sadly, as a woman who does, indeed, shave I felt saddened that as I grew up this was portrayed as the norm. The first time you shave your legs, underarms or even lady garden, it's always a real event. A sign of maturity. Not only due to the fact that you have hair growing but also because you have reached the age where you are seen more so as a sexual being. A sexual being who must be hairless. Heaven forbid stubble is existent!
Sadly for any man in my life they have to learn that my life does not revolve around hair removal. I have days where I think, 'I really can't be arsed to perform gymnast-esque moves in the shower in order to remove my leg hair...or elsewhere.' It's a battle between having 'the ideal, hair free body' and becoming Yeti. At present, I think I am a gentle in between. Due to being forced to having freezing cold showers for the last couple of days, my interest in shaving in Arctic conditions has depleted somewhat. Unfortunately, I don't have the luxury of ever being soft and smooth. A condition I have limits my opportunities to be that 100% hair free Goddess you see on the front of your magazines. If I ever wanted to achieve that, I would be using hair removal techniques throughout the day and to be honest, who can really be bothered to devote that much time to it?
Yet, despite us being mostly, expected to be hair free, we are also encouraged to keep our hair free tactics quiet. It's a secret that we may have to use creams on our top lips, that we may have to pluck hairs from secret places or we have to go for a regular bikini wax just in case our pubic hair explodes from our underwear and someone may see it. Remember...it's a secret. We want hair free bodies yet we want it to be a secret everyone knows about. I'm lost completely.
Either way, hairy or not, I don't think it matters overly. We have hair on our bodies for a reason. Are there cave paintings of women sat around the fire scraping hair off their legs with blunt stones? Err no. If you want to get rid of it, that's fine. I am one of those people, yet I don't like it to over take the more important things in life. If I have a little stubble on my legs, I won't cry about it or have a panic shave in order to remove it. I don't feel any less feminine having hair. I don't feel any more liberated having hair. I feel like me because ultimately my body is mine and I like it however it is.
Hannah xox
If we were designed to be hairless we would be born bald
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