My immune system is forming a union to protest the extreme temperature fluctuations that are keeping spring at bay.
Anyway. I participated in a photo shoot with my dance team yesterday, so the day before, I went to get most of my body waxed. Yes, people, I am a hairy animal. I like my body hair, it keeps me warm in winter, but to conform to social norms, I decided to bite the bullet and evict my follicular babies from their anchors. (I have reasons for waxing vs. shaving, but let's not discuss all my bodily functions!)
Let me tell you something about getting my legs waxed: worst pain of my life. "Suck it up, princess," you say. NO. I sucked, slurped, and vacuumed all of it up and it was still so painful, halfway through the process, my body started trembling and sweating profusely from shock. God knows why my dear esthetician didn't call it quits after I turned into a vibrating sprinkler. As I dug my nails into the spa chair, convincing myself not to escape half-naked, I thought about how ridiculous I would look to an alien. There I was, turning red from inflammation because my hair was being ripped from its roots, serving me absolutely no biological advantage. I was removing a natural, functional part of my body because I have learned that doing so makes me more of a "lady." Of course, the hair on my head should be thick and lush, but anywhere else is, "Ew, gross!"
Hair wicks away moisture (underarm hair), creates a barrier to prevent pathogenic bacteria from entering (nasal and pubic hairs), and keeps us warm (body hair). In my humble opinion, hair growth is symbolic of good health, fertility, and vitality.
No, I'm not hippie enough to parade around looking like an animated shag carpet, and I would be lying if I said that being "smooth" doesn't make me feel confident and sexy. However, these psychological rewards are a product of our culture and I don't think young girls should grow up thinking the removal of something so natural is necessary to be beautiful and accepted.
That is all. I will continue waxing when it is required of me, but a message to my future husband: I have hair, it is a part of who I am, and I will remove it only when I feel like it. Caress that, sucka!
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