Adventures in Hair Removal

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am hairy. It's a fact. I can't get around it, it's just the way it is.

I blame it on my genetic heritage: part caucasian, part East Indian, part...??? If I was a dog, in  Trinidad I'd be known as a Pot Hound (because when you rattle the pot, the dog comes running), everywhere else I'd be known as a mongrel. Along with stubbornness (both sides) and a flair for creativity (father's side), I have inherited the hairy gene.

There are the upsides. I have a full head of hair. It's thick with a tendency to curl. I'm not sure who I can blame on the early grey part, I was 23 when I first noticed a smattering o hairs when I was pregnant with Boy. 

I wouldn't mind so much; if only it was limited to the top of my head.

If I didn't shave my legs and arms every day, darlings I resemble the Amazon rainforest: walking tree covered in foliage. Honestly.

One of the things they don't tell you when you're a wee baby girl, is that when you turn a certain age, hair starts sprouting over your top lip and on your chin. And they aren't tiny, subtle hairs either. I'm talking long, thick and wiry. If I didn't deal with the hair on the top of my lip every week, I could have a full-waxed handle-bar that would Edwardian men cry.

My hairline begins just above my eyebrow.

You'll note I used singular. You see, I have only one eyebrow that goes straight across my forehead. Frida Kahlo, you pre-pubescent girl. Call that facial hair?! Hah!

Frida Kahlo - self portrait with monkeys

There's a very persuasive feminist argument that says shaving is bad. It's a hair-less dogma dictated by society and the media to reduce women to adolescent girls. After all, hair is a sign of sexual maturity.

There's part of me going: Right On Sistah! But I view feminism as giving women choices and the right to make up their own minds about their bodies and how they live their lives. So, yes I'm very sympathetic to the pro-body hair argument, but honestly, it's not for me. I just don't like how it feels.

There are very few hair removal techniques I haven't tried: shaving, waxing, threading and hair removal creams. Epilators have never appealed, I've looked at no-no and the reviews don't match the marketing and I haven't won the lottery to afford laser.

Thanks to the my economic situation, I have had to come up with crafty ways to be hair-free. I tried hair removal cream [if you aren't drinking or eating anything and are in the privacy of your own home, have a look at these reviews for Veet for Men. They are live on Amazon and bloody hilarious] and the results have been less than helpful.

I don't mind having my forehead and eyebrows waxed. It's over and done within seconds and it's perfect. If the beautician is using good products and a soothing aftercare lotion, you don't end up with fuchsia strips instead of eye shadow.

There are threading booths around Norwich that don't charge a lot. You can rock up, they do you there and then and et voila! Two lovely sculpted eyebrows!

Or at least that's what should happen.

I don't like threading. It hurts, takes ages and can cut the delicate skin around my eyes. You've got to pull the skin taut, which for me is an exercise in frustration given I moisturise and I wear contact lenses. 

Yesterday, I rocked up at the threading booth and sat down to have two eyebrows. I am less than pleased with the results. She dispensed with two-thirds of my eyebrow and has left me with two thin angular lines. It looks like they were drawn on with a ruler and a set-square. Honestly, they make me look like I'm cross.

Oh wait. I am cross.

It's no good. I am just going to have to learn how to pluck the damned things myself. That way, the next time I end up with two thin lines, it'll be no one else's fault but my own. 

Humpf.