Note from Violet – this post is brought to you courtesy of an anonymous guest contributor. If you have something to get off your chest and you think it will fit the remit of this site, please do get in touch!
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The time had come. After four months living happily shaving free with my fiancée the fluff had to go. I was going to my first practice with my new dance team and somehow I couldn’t bring myself to do it in my natural condition. No one has asked me to shave, but if I didn’t the little voice said in my head, they might reject me and I really don’t want to be rejected.
We think that in modern Britain, strong independent women are able to make their own individual choice as to whether or not they get rid of large portions of their natural body hair. But when it is a choice of being labelled something very negative or just being unquestionably accepted, I don’t really think that there is much free choice involved. I would love to be able to do all the activities I do with a strappy top and my underarm hair intact but at the moment this isn’t a viable option. Not because my friends would reject me, I have great friends, but because I wouldn’t feel comfortable. I’ve gone out on the town in a strappy dress, high heels and underarm hair. I was too scared to lift my arms up all night!
Or am I the only one that sees my underarm hair as something massive that people will see poking out underneath my top and forever judge me as weird for? It makes me sad that I can remember nearly all the not-shaven armpits of female (but not male) associates. Each one comes with an uncomfortable, awkward memory. That woman is strange, funny, weird…NOT NORMAL. Now and then with a mixture of horror and admiration the memory of a elderly woman’s crotch from a spa in Hungary a couple of years ago pops into my mind, her grey pubes peeking out the bottom of her swimming costume. Why this memory stayed with me I don’t know. I wish I was strong enough not to give other women’s pubic hair a second thought. But it was there grey and twisty and visible and strange.
When the time had come for my hair removal I thought maybe I could get some images taken which might encourage other people (men and women) in Britain to think about their attitudes towards female body hair. I asked my lovely man to take a few before and after pictures. I have put these images out there on the scary public world of the internet because I think there should be more images of normal female leg fluff out there. Female body hair is not as horrendous or ugly as cruel comedians, impressionable teenage girls and boys brought up on a diet of pornhub think. Actually female pubic hair is OK. I watched the Crimson Petal and the White recently and was delighted, she had PUBIC HAIR and yet she was still as sexy as hell! How many historical films have you seen with female pubic hair? At least teenage boys (if they feel like it) have access to ‘vintage’ porn featuring many fine bushes, but it is not exactly mainstream!
I hate having to shave, I hate it. I hate all the processes of it. I hate buying the equipment, I hate the removal, I hate the accidents, the bleeding legs, the blood on the towels. I hate the in-growing pus filled hairs, I hate the Itch. I hate the maintenance. Worst of all I hate the fact that this is such a modern self-flagellation. Of my two Grandmothers born in the 30s one only shaved their ‘pits on holiday once a year and the other never shaved theirs. Neither of them shaved their legs. I have never asked if they know what a Brazilian is.
I’ll leave you with one final thought. Would you now? No? …Why Not?
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What do you think – do perceived social ‘norms’ affect how you feel about your own body hair? Let us know!