It's Official. I'm a (Brazilian Wax) Model!
73: Accepting my body hair is a daily ritual, but it wasn't always.
Warning: This post contains many stories of body hair in all the places possible. Turn back now if you can’t handle the hairy (pube) truth! Though, I dare you to continue and comment how many times you blushed. (I’m talking to you, mom!)
Conquering Shame In the Name of Education
Yes, the rumors are true: I was splayed out and half-nude for about 20 future estheticians to take a gander at. And someone even asked for my phone number! (Yes, it was the instructor, who applauded my pain tolerance and wanted to use me as a model again in the future, but I was still flattered.)
Once upon a few weeks ago, my sister— a cosmetologist currently in esthetician school— called me to ask if I wanted to be a model for one of her classes. I said yes without hesitation nor knowledge of what I’d agreed to. She giggled excitedly and hung up.
“What if she wants you to model getting a bikini wax or something??”
My mom was anxious on my behalf, frantically giving me tips on how to trim my pubic hair before going in. I assured her that she need not worry a second more about the state of my bush— not now or ever again, for as long as we both shall live. She started sweating and turning beet red, laughing hard in the way she always does when I’m talking plainly about something she regards as a private subject. “PUBIC HAIR!” I shouted out the window of her home as she pulled me back in, turning redder.
I’ve always been very open about many things that those around me would never mention out loud to anyone but their doctor. This really does come from my passion for education and connection. If there weren’t so many obstacles (embarrassment, fear of the taboo, religious pressures, etc…) to proper education— particularly sex education— I don’t think people— particularly women, who have been historically uneducated— would be so nervous to ask or answer questions related to sex or private parts.
And my sister already knew all this about me. Which is why she asked me.
After meeting all my sister’s classmate friends (“We’re about to get to know each other very well!”), I laid on a table and got my downtown forest ripped off to the gasps and knowledgable “ohhhs” of the class. Leaning in, taking notes, gathering at the foot of the table and looking into my crotch with a wide-eyed focus (or looking away and declaring they would not take the waxing route in their future careers) made for a rather interesting way to start my Tuesday morning. They were shocked at my lack of reaction, as they knew waxing this area would usually garner much reaction from many women claiming a Brazilian wax was worse than labor pains (HARD disagree on my end). Factually, the class knew the areas that were likely to be more painful and flicked their heads to check on me as the instructor ripped and pressed. At most, I winced, but at the very least, I just held my breath and took comfort in the fact that what would usually cost me $60+ was free just because I allowed an audience. It really was only beneficial for everyone involved.
And walking out of there with the amount of confidence I had gained from that experience was priceless.
I have wanted to talk about this since I started this blog
There’s no way around it: I’m a hairy gal.
In third grade, my classmates were very interested in sharing their secret talents. Some could touch their thumbs to their wrists or fold their tongues in ways others couldn’t. One of the talents I thought I was popular for was my ability to raise one eyebrow at a time. I thought this was why many kids, even my own friends, called me “uni.”
It was not.
In third grade, I got my eyebrows waxed for the first time.
“I’ll show you what shoes to wear,
how to fix your hair.
Everything that really counts to be popular.”
I remember the sting and how brave the hairdresser at ROLF’S said I was. But I also remember sitting in the middle of the salon, embarrassed to have this “problem” I didn’t see anyone else having: I had a lot of hair, in lots of places.
I always got compliments on how much hair I had on my head, with people inviting themselves to enthusiastically play with it— squishing it, fluffing it, and trying and failing to run their fingers through it. It felt like an accomplishment that I had so much hair, even though I had no control over it whatsoever.
I was 13 when I got my first Brazilian wax. The upcoming summer vacation (probably a cruise or a trip to the beach) necessitated a bikini wax for my hairy little self, but the waxer wanted to keep going. And, you know what? So did I. About 30 minutes later, I proudly waddled out of European Wax Center with my mom, who was shocked at my pain tolerance.
You see, the carpet does match the drapes. And as lost as I was with styling the hair on my head, I was just as lost in the dense forest down south. I thought it would be much easier (and was apparently preferable to everyone around me) to not be hairy anywhere but my head. That was sucky to hear all the time— as a teenager trying to be appealing and attractive— that excessive hair was not attractive, especially on girls. And here I was, taller than everyone in my class, hitting puberty first in all the ways, and becoming distinctly aware of alllllllll of my hair— which was a lot more than most of the girls around me at a predominately white school in North Peoria (Though, I still never felt Latina enough).
“But the old me is still me and maybe the real me and I think she’s pretty.”
Most parts of my body were covered with random assortments of different textures of hair. My legs? Hairy. Toes? Hairy. Fingers? Hands? Face? Hairy. Arm hair? Dark. Underarm hair? Darker. My tummy had fuzz that seemed to thicken as I aged. I grew up keenly aware of how I shaved much much more than any prepubescent boy in my middle school classes and could probably grow a beard faster than any of them. This was a weird fact for me to process, especially back then.
A lot of my middle school friends were flirting with guys, getting phone numbers, having boyfriends. And me? I was over here, being freakishly tall (5 ft) and being freakishly hairy.
Now, at 28, I’ve tried waxing and/or lasering just about everywhere. But after birthing my son 2.5 years ago, all of my laser treatments, even the ones I was most loyal to over the years, wore off.
My hair persisted.
Whatchya Gonna Do With All That HAIR?
Our society upholds unhealthy body standards. This isn’t news. Even though the media has made their influence more diverse and inclusive since I was younger, there are way more ways— one might say too many ways— to be influenced in today’s culture. With the internet at our fingertips, we’re all one scroll away from a TikTok praising diet culture, impossible beauty standards made with filters and editing on Instagram, or even a Disney movie celebrating certain body types over others. Not only do we have to worry about family members passing down their body dysmorphia to our children, we can also worry about any random person on the internet doing that.
Even though there are some really body-positive and body-neutral content creators out there making videos that highlight the natural imperfections of our human bodies, there are still many voices that the youth of today are exposed to that have a singular goal to warp our body expectations for influencers’ material or monetary gain. There is a lot of money to be made off of women attempting to meet the beauty standards of today, with the average Brazilian wax costing $50-$100 and the average laser hair removal session costing $250-350 (all before the recommended 20% gratuity) depending on how bare you want your down-there. While waxing appointments come around every 3-5 weeks, it is recommended that laser treatment plans start at 6 sessions with additional touch-up appointments as needed. That’s a lot of money for hair to be pulled or zapped out of our flower folds.
With both laser and wax hair removal market values rising into the billions, with a projected ~18% increase in the next 8 years, my concern turns toward individual motivation. If someone prefers their vulva to be silky smooth 24/7 and they have the money and time to accomplish it, they can do whatever they want. But the last thing I want is for young women to be opting for painful and costly appointments at the request of those they wish to impress.
“Make me in your perfect image of a girl
So sweet but always incomplete and grateful for
Your needs to give me meaning
Oh, what a relief from feeling!”
Why do we remove our body hair?
“You should shave your arms so they’re smooth like mine.”
“Ow! Your legs are too pokey!”
“You shouldn’t have hair on your face if you’re a girl.”
“You look better with your hair straight.”
I have been shaving my legs for so long, I only vaguely remember pushing down too hard and seeing the beads of blood pop up across my skin. I remember trying to curl my lashes with my mom’s eyelash curler without asking how to use it. I ended up ripping some eyelashes out. I cried out of shame alone in our empty backyard pool. The bubbly burning of Nair, the ingrown hairs in the worst places, the itchy razor burn that followed after 1-3 days of hairless bliss… Beauty is pain, they said. I was trying so hard to be beautiful by the popular definition, even before I got to high school.
In my tiny bit of historic research, it seems the idea of hairlessness being sexy and desirable can be traced all the way back to the Roman Empire, where only the wealthy could afford the luxury of shaving. But when the Gillette razor was introduced in the 1920’s, women everywhere felt pushed to make their armpits “as smooth as the face.” Fuck you, marketing campaigns that became societal exceptions!!
Your Hair, Your Choice
I am not here to convince anyone to let their pubes grow free. My goal in sharing this post is to share how I looked into the reasons why I paid people to rip hair out of my lady bits every 3 weeks and I didn’t see a good reason to continue… until, of course, my modeling career began this past week.
These messages we’ve been given about the most desirable way to show up— whether publicly or pubicly hehe— are still active in the minds of those who taught us our insecurities in the first place and will still be pressed by most of our society. However, we don’t have to subscribe to certain beauty standards by default. We are allowed and should be encouraged to question the narrative we’re given.
I tried to participate in No-Shave November, as a way of experimenting with what other people would say, but I found myself fearing the reactions of others. I honestly did not notice my hairy legs until I was getting out of the car to teach and worried the kids would bully me. lol Kids can be brutally honest and you gotta be ready to take whatever they may give you. I’m trying to be brave again this month.
The first time I paraded myself as hairy, it was an accident. I was letting my armpit hair grow out for a clean shave before my wedding and I forgot to shave the night before. I only realized when they were hiding me before the ceremony and by then I shrugged it off. It didn’t come up at all that night.
When I was pregnant with Oakley— not knowing his gender— I would cry when I thought about having a girl that may be as hairy as me and have to deal with the world’s preferences of bodies that didn’t look like ours. I wanted to be sure my child knew that she was beautiful just as she is. Hair and all. So, I decided that I would no longer prioritize shaving and would specifically stop shaving my arms, hands, and fingers. When I gave birth to a boy, I was somewhat relieved, but I was not naive enough to think it would be smooth sailing. Body insecurities are not strictly a female issue and society pressures people of all genders to look a certain way and fit into certain categories. The world is full of judgement that may find its way to my son, but it’s my job to teach him to recognize it when he sees it. I want my child’s confidence to start with me.
Throughout my life, my hair has persisted. I viewed this as a problem in need of solving. But the real problem was the shame I carried for having so much hair. What was in need of fixing was my view of myself. Being aware of the mindset I’ve been tricked into having is only the beginning. Society will continue to demand things of my body and I have the right to question, dispute, and fight against whatever I see fit. In this case, changing how I view my hair— in all the places it insists on growing— in a positive or even a neutral way is a huge win in and of itself.
My therapy session this week focused on unpacking many body issues I have struggled with for years. My body dysmorphia and disordered eating were socially acceptable and were sometimes even celebrated. It’s been very confusing and heavy and I have honestly not worked through it all enough to talk about here so I will stop now. But I guess I found it funny that my life actually had a theme this week.
To end this mess of data and feelings, I’ll say this:
I’m not completely cured of any mindsets I spoke against today. I am still pulled every which way when my guard is down, and maybe I’m too trusting because it’s been down a little too much lately. And perhaps you may bump into me this month and you might see my very hairy legs or notice that you could definitely make little braids in my armpit hair. And maybe I’ll get all up in my head and shave it all off and cry a lot. Or— perhaps— I will go about my day, reading and playing with my son, without wasting valuable energy on what the people around me think of my body hair.
“My body’s my buddy
Oh, through me and of me
Oh god, what an honor, to see her
To know her, to love her.”
Weekly Subscriptions & Cancellations💁🏽♀️
the ideas and soundtracks I want running in my head, or not.
🙋🏽♀️SUBSCRIBED to:
Expressing my emotions— “it does not diminish my powers. It expands them.”
Mary Tyler Moore and her badassness.
America Ferrera. I am retroactively flattered that so many people told me I looked like her when I was younger. (Mostly cuz they always said “You look like Ugly Betty!” and I hadn’t watched the show…. Still haven’t 😅) She is always portraying really relatable characters.
THE LIBRARY! Why have I been sleeping on the library all these years?? This is amazing!!
THE ULTIMATUM SEASON 3!!! This show is my guilty pleasure. It’s an juicy emotional rollercoaster!!
🤦🏽♀️UNSUBSCRIBED from:
Wood chips. Are they seriously better than sand?
Liking school, unfortunately. Seriously, I was always a huge fan of school UNTIL I BECAME A TEACHER. Now, I think I react to school the same way everyone I knew did. 😅
Elf on the Shelf’s design. Creepy and not cute. Our elf that happens to be sitting on a shelf? Adorable! Unique! Soft!
I wish I could unsubscribe from… Zach having 2am shifts while sick :(
🌻Show & Tell: Library Adventures!🌻
I have decided to use this space to showcase art, poetry, other artists and/or current books I am reading.
For this week, please enjoy my reviews of the library books I read with myself and Oak this week.
Also lemme know if you can read it ok or not
Time for some TLCCC💕
Treating myself to: a mocha cookie crunch Frappuccino with coconut milk :)
Listening to: The Rise & Fall of Mars Hill Podcast (yeahhhh she in her podcast eraaaa)
Currently Reading: God & The Gay Christian by Matthew Vines, among so many books from the library, including the book I just sobbed my way through last night: Dancing at the Pity Party.
Craving: a day to just lay down and watch Christmas movies all day. Right now I’m just staying up late to end up falling asleep watching Gretchen Wieners have Christmas-obsessed parents.
Caring SO much about: Disney’s Dream Productions! Watched all four 25-minute episodes the night they premiered! Spoiler Alert: 4Town music spotted in Riley’s dream! Same universe!!!
