91热爆

By Esther De La Ford | 91热爆 The Social Contributor

I recently decided I wanted to stop shaving. I wasn’t sure for how long but I knew I wanted to grow out all my body hair to its natural length and explore how that felt to me.

As much as it may inspire some to shout “Take away her feminist card!”; first I consulted my partner. I was just putting feelers out there, while making it clear this was still absolutely something I was going to do whether he liked it or not. I told him I’d decided to stop shaving for a while to see how it felt to have body hair. I’d realised that since I was 13 I’d been shaving pretty much constantly, barring a lazy week here and there, and never experienced how it felt to just BE in my body without any shame around being unshaven. All this messaging had crept in under the radar and while I actively appreciated other women choosing to put down the razor and grow their hair, I had subconscious beliefs I’d picked up in my life as a woman telling me that women with body hair were ‘letting themselves go’ and that is was gross, smelly and unladylike.

My partner was unperturbed, and rightly so after 5 years living with me. This wasn’t even in the top ten most ‘out there’ things I’d done since we got together. He said he preferred me when I was silky smooth but it wasn’t something that he was bothered by and that it was just a marginal preference, not something that would affect how he saw me or felt about me.

I had an interview for a documentary about three weeks into my no-shave journey, and ordinarily would have shaved my legs and underarms just in case, being mortified if stubble had been seen peeking out around my ankles. This time I wore tight fitting leather look leggings that stopped mid-calf, a floaty shirt and ankle boots. Sporting a full face of makeup, perfect winged eyeliner and the beginnings of a Mr Tumnus-cosplay on my lower legs I walked into the interview feeling not that bothered. I felt aligned, confident, and good about how I looked and honestly in that moment didn’t need validation from anyone at all.

Behold my hairy legs, I’m still a woman and I’m still hot. My worth as a woman is not rooted in how pretty I look. This is the new belief I held in my mind while exploring this little challenge I’d given myself.

Every time doubt crept in I replaced it with this new thought. I expected sex to be the area where I might fumble when it came to truly convincing myself I was comfortable with my own body hair.

Sex is the one place you are totally vulnerable; you can’t hide much physically or emotionally. At least not in my relationship. But honestly the hair had zero effect, in fact any effect it did have was a positive one. I hadn’t ‘forgotten’ to shave or just not been bothered. I was making a conscious choice for myself and that made me feel kind of powerful. Here I am, take me or leave me. He was obviously taking me, so having made his hairy bed he’d have to lie in it. Or something.

We like each other and we like each other’s bodies, mine was a bit fluffier than normal and that was fine. Part of choosing to be with someone is knowing sometimes their body will look a bit (or a lot) different to how it did when you met. Health, babies, life, tattoos, piercings; there are so many ways a body can change, so desire has to come from somewhere more than just physical appearance. For me, it comes from a desire to connect and be seen, not just to experience pleasure together. Being in my body without shame made me feel more confident and by extension sexier.

Ultimately, I ended up shaving again. The leg hair had started getting annoying, catching against weirdly placed lips on jeans and the edges of tight socks. I’ve never liked sticking to just one way of doing things, but I don’t think that will be the last time I put down the razor and it definitely gave me a lot to think about when it comes to how I see and treat my body and how much impact other people’s view of me effects my own.