Long and coarse grass littered patches of land interspersed with unwanted weeds and specks of dirt. Dried up dead flowers timidly rustled in the breeze and were surrounded by brittle leaves that cracked under the pressure of a single tap.
This unkempt garden was deeply rooted into my veins in the form of body hair resembling vines that traveled from my ankles up towards my thighs, coiling around my abdomen, creating a stream flowing up to my arms and knots on my knuckles before looping below my underarms and finally resting on top of my lip.
Holding pesticides in one hand and hot wax strips in the other, I was in desperate need of a manicured garden with a smooth cut surface where one could carefully rest their head without fear of being coated with undesirable weeds, or so I was told.
My relationship with my body hair has always been a whirlwind of a razor bump rollercoaster. From a young age, I was terrified of being under a spotlight where the dark and noticeable hair on my arms and legs would be put on display for all to see as if I was a small monkey being presented on a zoo’s grand opening day. This feeling of shame followed throughout my awkward middle school years where all I could focus on was how others would view my appearance.
For a long time, I believed I had to maintain a certain standard of how I presented myself to the world in order to look polished. I was made to believe that the hair on my body was gross and made me unapproachable. However, there came a time where shaving and waxing became a relentless chore. Shaving and waxing my body hair was like when my mom deep cleaned the entire house for the hundredth time in one day, despite no one coming over. It took a while, but there came a point that I realized that no one else should be concerned or hold negative opinions of whether or not I chose to remove the hair on my body.
For some, not shaving or waxing feels liberating, freeing, and can make someone feel unstoppable and beautiful. For others who choose to shave and wax their body hair, it can hold the same effect. It is your choice that ultimately matters, and no one should make you feel pressured to do one or the other. There are days where we will let our leg hair roam free to keep us warm for that particularly cold winter night, and there are days where we like to rub our smooth hairless legs together like a cricket for that humid summer night.