![]() I doubt he even noticed, but I still felt self-conscious. I instantly tried to pull my leggings down to cover them. I was wearing leggings, but when we took our shoes and socks off to stick our feet in the sand, I realized my leg hairs were still visible around my ankles. One Saturday, we rode our bikes to Coney Island. I’ve been going on FaceTime and socially-distanced outdoor dates with a guy I’ve been seeing since right before the lockdown in New York City. I don’t mind strangers seeing it, but rocking it around people I’m attracted to was tricky at first. But as it’s gotten warmer and I’ve transitioned to shorts and tank tops, there’s been no hiding my body hair. I was staying inside most of the time, and if I went out, it was cold enough for leggings and long-sleeved shirts, and wearing a mask concealed my mustache. I’ve become attached to my hair, and I feel healthy and proud when I notice it, sort of like when you see your nails getting longer.Īt the beginning of the pandemic, I didn’t really have to think about other people seeing my body hair. I occasionally trim my bikini line with scissors because the length and volume can get a little uncomfortable, but I haven’t touched a razor in months. I haven’t shaved since the beginning of March, and my hair is fairly soft at this point. Yes, at first my hair was spiky and a little itchy, but it only took about two weeks to get past that. My showers are quick and simple, and the skin on my legs, bikini line, and upper lip, which used to get really bad razor burn and irritation, has never felt better. This felt like my chance to just let my body hair do its thing.Īnd, unsurprisingly, it’s been a fucking awesome experience. Plus, keeping up with an involved grooming routine in the middle of a worldwide crisis felt exhausting and trivial. At first, I stopped shaving because…what was the point?! I wasn’t seeing anyone, and I had always done it for others anyway. I’ve wanted to grow mine out for some time, almost as an experiment to see how I felt about it, but as a single person, I’ve always been too afraid of what new partners might think. I think that’s why, over the last few years, I’ve gotten much more comfortable with my own. ![]() When I moved from Iowa to New York City after college, I started seeing more and more women with visible body hair IRL, in art, ad campaigns, and on social media. Looking back, I really don’t think he cared one way or another, but my discomfort with body hair made me assume he did. When I returned from the shower, I’d announce jokingly to my boyfriend that I was a “naked mole rat.” I felt sexiest and most at ease around him in a totally hairless state. I ran track in college, and on Friday nights before meets, I’d practice my same middle school dance ritual, ridding my body of any hair that might show in our bikini-like uniforms. I was just terrified that other people would judge me.Īnd so I convinced myself that I liked the feeling of being totally clean-shaven, too. The thing is, my body hair never bothered me. I understood that body hair was bad, and getting rid of it-no matter how painful and annoying-was absolutely necessary. I’m not sure exactly what triggered it, but I can recall tons of times when my fear of hair was reinforced: As guys in my class made fun of anyone whose eyebrows were even remotely approaching each other, when I was one of the only girls in the gym locker room with pubic hair and everyone stared, when I watched my older sister try Nair for the first time and heard her shriek in the shower that it was melting her skin off. I’ve been self-conscious of my body hair for as long as I can remember. Anything was better than people knowing I had hair above my lip. The redness was embarrassing in and of itself, but I knew I could cover it with some thick Maybelline Dream Matte Mouse foundation. I’d leave the cream on for far too long, giving myself minor chemical burns around my mouth. I knew I was only supposed to leave it on my skin for 10 minutes, but my wiry black hair was so stubborn that that wasn’t always enough time to remove it all. I’d pluck my eyebrows and any random sprouts on my chin, and then, as I carefully applied Victoria’s Secret Pure Seduction lotion all over my hairless body, I’d let a creamy white depilatory sit above my lip and dissolve my mustache. ![]() ![]() I’d shave my big toes, legs, pubic hair, and armpits, and swipe my razor over the rogue hairs below my belly button, in the center of my chest, and around my nipples. Before every middle school dance, I used to perform a whole (now, seemingly ridiculous) full body hair removal ritual.
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