You Know You're Hairy When . . .

I caught up on a friend's blog this week and had a great time laughing along with the stories of herself and her family. She started blogging in September last year, rather tentatively, and is now an avid blogger (26 posts so far in July!). Her writing reads easily and with much humor and openness these days. I just hear her saying, here it all is, warts and all. She had quite a funny entry titled "You Know You're Fat When . . ." in which she bravely discloses some embarassing facts about being over weight. This got me thinking about the embarassing fact of how hairy I am for a woman.

Way back when I was in third or fourth grade, I was at gymnastics practice (at the gym where I first did an aerial - oh, the feeling of flying!), and one of my coaches said something to the effect of, "You have legs as hairy as a gorilla." I remember where I was standing in the gym, who I was with, and being absolutely mortifiedopenaholeundermeandletmedisappear. I started wearing some stunning hot pink leg warmers to practice. Yeah - you're definitely hairy when you're called a gorilla at age 9 (a trait I most likely get from my dad).

Ever since, I have been a wee bit shy about how hairy I am. I have dark brown head hair and dark hair on my legs and arms to match. I have for some reason lost some of my eyebrow hair since high school (what a blessing) and still pluck a little, but I used to pluck and trim a lot more in high school and college. One of my most embarrassing moments in high school was walking out of a makeup session before a silly fashion show my high school put on each year with seniors, and having my larger than normal eyebrows made even larger by the makeup artist - who had them standing up on end like freakin' feathers! Fortunately, my sister was there and oh so bravely defied the makeup artists and smoothed them down for me (duh). I remember my boyfriend freshman year randomly asking me if I plucked my eyebrows, and I flat out lied. (I still want to clear that up someday because I keep thinking about it, and I just don't give a crap now about it). Michael once mentioned that I need to trim my nose hairs, and I was about mortified. At some point in high school and maybe college, I bleached my arm hair (when summer sun and pool didn't do it fast enough) and upper lip hair, pluck a few random chin hairs that have shown up, and once tried home bikini waxing (I highly recommend not trying that at home) and Nair (not all it's cracked up to be but the TV ads are so seductive).

My favorite cosmetic tool that I've bought EVER is an electric personal razor that includes a nose hair and bikini line attachment. YES! I own three pairs of tweezers and highly prize the pair that works really well. And if there was any cosmetic procedure that I would have done (outside of laser eye surgery), it's electrolysis of my arms, legs and bikini line. Maybe I should title this blog, "You Know You're Obsessed about Being Hairy When . . . "

Note: The picture of scissors and razor came up titled "Mistaken masonic symbols." Hilarious.