Crazy Hair Don’t Care

Perhaps we all go a bit long between shaves in the colder climate of Ohio’s winters. Long sleeves, long pants, no swimsuits; to what purpose would up-keeping our body hair serve? I feel a bit like Morpheus, but what if I told you it has been YEARS (not months) since I’ve shaved?

That’s right. No underarm, no leg, no bikini, no body hair removal for about three years (doing mom math = who was alive when such-n-such happened). The experience has been utterly freeing. Nothing to buy or replace (goodbye pinktax) and less time for grooming (like I have time). I don’t know if or when I’ll shave again. Once you go hairy, you think it’s less scary.

What started as some maternity indulgence has morphed into a statement about the social construct of women’s shaving habits. Doing a little research I find it was close to 100 years ago the idea of women removing body hair was first marketed to us. Initially, a way for King Camp Gillette to broaden his customer base, we have really run with the idea that body hair is something to constantly remove.

The because-everyone-else-does works less for me now. Like many other things in my life, I reevaluate them as a mother of young children. Thinking about my own choices and what I model for my sons and daughter draws new conclusions. Although their young bodies do not yet have post-pubescent body hair, they see mine and it becomes a conversation. Mostly I just say, you, too will have body hair when you are older and leave it at that. How better to love ourselves than how we are made?

I am not trying to impress anyone, shaving or not. I have a family that loves me for me. If anyone wants to shave anything, that’s great. I just no longer buy into the idea of hair removal equating any beauty standard. You do you, momma.