I cannot get over how hairy my top lip is. Notes on ageing.
I have no idea where all these hairs are coming from but weirdly as a response I'm choosing to chase 'sexy'
Unlike a lot of fellow girlies, I haven’t actually ever spent too much time fretting about my appearance during aging. This is largely in part due to the fact that I have the face of a 12 year old and up until 2022 was still getting asked for ID buying a bottle of rose in M&S (which as a side note if U18s year olds are now buying rose in M&S times have really changed, it was more vodka from safeway in the graveyard vibes for me).The parts of our bodies we are most at war tend to occupy a lot of our focus and in doing so, we can under appreciate the parts that are happily there looking bloody gorgeous and getting absolutely zero attention. For me this has always been clear skin and a youthful face which has largely been ignored as I chose to dedicate a lifetime’s wasted energy to being annoyed with my stomach. But not anymore! You see the advantages of having a ‘moon face’, a fuller more, how shall we say, in your face, face, is that it does tend to fair quite well on the aging front. Chubby cheeks are perhaps not desirable at all stages of life, but in your 40s they are cheaper than botox.
However since housing 3 humans in my uterus things have certainly started hotting up in the physical and emotional aging department. Starting with the hair on my face. This is something I have very little experience with, I’ve been fortunate that I haven’t had to bother with this issue until the last few years. The first time I noticed a thick long hair protruding from the corner of my mouth I audibly gasped. It was just SO LONG. How had I not noticed? Where did it come from? What did it want from me?! I used to keep these hair invaders in check with the occasional visit to the threading chair every now and then when I was out and about in town. But during lockdown, that time of closed salons when we all experimented in all kinds of self-beauty routines with mixed results, I picked up the waxing strips. And dear reader, I cannot put them down. I question if I’m an addict. It’s like my own personal ASMR routine. When I rip those buggers out I hold the strip up to the light and study, like a scientist discovering a new germ under the microscope, I study the daggers of hair lying limp and pinned down by my (questionable) handwork. I mean, what the actual f!ck? There’s loads of them. I don’t know if regular waxing has made the situation worse or this is just part of the lifestage I am in, but I feel like it’s getting out of hand. I think I’m going to try the laser but I just can’t seem to find the gap in my addictive face waxing strip to break the habit. It’s like I am waiting for a time when I look at the strip and there’s not that many there and every time the opposite happens and I am surprised.
I suppose this should also be the time where I make some comment about how the patriarchy has created this world where I have to spend more time and money stripping and removing hair to fit some standard. And it probably has. But I have arrived at a point where in this instance, I don’t care. I don’t know the layers as to exactly why I don’t want a hairy lip, or hairy pits, or hairy legs, but I just don’t. I love the feeling of smooth legs and I love my bush being contained at swimming time. I see all the Gen Z kids on IG proudly showing their hairy armpits and I’m chuffed for them. I cheer loudly for them doing the work to change the script, but I’m also just a fairly tired woman who wants to maintain the feeling of sexiness and am happy to accept I’m perhaps from a now ageing generation who liked hair free limbs. And whilst yes there’s probably something dark that sits at the bottom of it all, but I’m not living down there, I’m up here, still feeling empowered and doing the things for equality, whilst trying not to have a full on moustache. I have however since lockdown drawn a line under having extensive fanny waxes. Many, many times, I’ve laid there, my most intimate parts splayed out whilst a stranger tears out the hairs. After a long period of not having this done it started to seem weirder and weirder. And the pain! Yikes. No thanks. I’m done with a dolls’ fanny. A modest trim and shape for my lady garden serves her just lovely.
There are of course other things I’m noticing, my boobs seem to have a journey on this planet of their own that I try to keep up with. They were down and now they seem to be growing again. I hope to get a memo soon. My thighs are now very close together and have more ripples. Blah Blah Blah. So boring. All this to say I am reconnecting with the feeling of sexiness. It feels like an exciting project and I’m tuning into the things that evoke that feeling and not overthinking the subtext underneath it. It turns out to be pretty fun to chase sexy, a playful pursuit indeed.
I’ve always battled the ‘tache what with having dark hair. I think it must be a generational thing. I love how younger females don’t care now and hair is accepted but for me it just reminds me of all the ridicule I got as a kid for being hairy, mainly from my own siblings sadly. Although I’ve never been on board with the Hollywood wax, happy to say embrace the bushy muff! 😂
This made me howl! Being a dark haired person with hormone issues, I have always had facial hair and so when newly menopausal friends complain, I'm like 'welcome to my world'. In lockdown I tried growing out my armpits & leg hair and up to a certain point it's fine but when it tips over to full werewolf I just have to whip the razor out. I too applaude the younger generation for embrancing their hirstutness but it's not for me (although full bush applies, mainly because it rarely sees the light of day!)