Plenty of lady garden euphemisms in this little ditty!
The news story behind the video.
I’ve been waxing and bleaching it ever since Peter Donnally* (a fellow 5th grader in primary school) turned to me in choir practice, pointed his finger in the direction of my upper lip and said, “You have a moustache!”
I was mortified of course, and this was the start of my long love affair with wax.
I usually wax once a fortnight, but if there’s a chance of another human being getting in close proximity to my face, I will add an additional wax to my fortnightly regime.
I’m the kind of girl who waxes her bikini line in preparation for a pap smear – please, don’t judge me.
So yesterday was one of those days where I knew another individual was going to be getting up close and personal. I was having an EEG, which is a test used to detect electrical activity in the brain. It involves sticking loads of small electrodes to your freshly washed head and a slightly larger electrode to your chest. Long story, which I am sure to blog about at a later date.
Prior to the appointment, I was helping my husband to change our daughter’s dirty nappy. I was stroking my lip hair asking him why he hadn’t told me my lady mo was becoming highly visible. When little Miss saw me caressing my face, she asked what I was doing and could she possibly see. I opened my mouth, pointed to the corners of my lip and scratched my dark hairs. Her immediate response, with a big smile on her face, was, “Mummy, you look like Hairy MacLary!”
Now if you’re a parent, an aunt, a nanny or someone who cares for children, you will be very familiar with Hairy MacLary from Donaldson’s Dairy. For those of you not so familiar with this well loved book, it’s the story of a black, shaggy-haired dog strolling the dairy with his doggy friends, Schnitzel von Krumm, Muffin McLay, Bottomley Potts and Hercules Morse. They run into a cat and, well, I don’t want to spoil the plot, but you know how mean cats can be (sorry cat lovers!).
By this stage I’m making a beeline for my professional wax pot to rid myself of my ‘Hairy MacLary,’ all the time thinking I could probably enter (and win) Movember disguised as a man. Then later, I discovered this…
Airtasker, a website that connects people seeking to outsource tasks, is offering ladies an opportunity to hire a man to grow a mo for Movember. Brilliant! If I didn’t already have my own mo going on, I would seriously consider taking up this offer. Perhaps next year I’ll have people sponsor me NOT to wax for a month?
Outsourcing hair growth – I’m always amazed at what internet people are willing to do for others.
Until next time, keep your wax pot warm! SJx
*Name has been changed to protect privacy.
Last Monday at my daughter’s playgroup, one of the mums was wearing shorts for the first time since last summer. I commented on how brave she was, thinking that it was still too cold to be wearing shorts. “I know, look how white I am,” she responded, and as she stuck out a leg, “Oh, don’t look at how hairy they are, I haven’t shaved since Friday.”
This woman is naturally blonde-haired and I couldn’t see any hairs at all on her legs from where I stood, and I doubt I would’ve seen any unless I had been 2cm away with a microscope! And you know what? I can’t count how many times over the years I’ve heard women saying the exact same thing. This got me thinking about why women are apologising for having body hair to other women, who I’m pretty sure, also have body hair.
Now, if anyone should be embarrassed about having hairy legs, it’s me. You see, I wasn’t allowed to shave my legs at school. Yes, that's right, I wasn’t allowed to shave my legs in high school. I’ll give you a chance to let that sink in. Then I’ll let you know that I’m dark-haired, so my leg hair is also dark. You could see it from across the other side of the playground (well, that’s what it felt like at the time). Funnily enough, I only remember being teased about it once (I like to think it was my sparkling personality, clever wit and sporting prowess, that helped, but I actually punched the guy, so maybe word got around…)
I solved the problem to some extent. I might not have been allowed to shave or wax, and I knew my parents would notice if I was suddenly hair-free. So, my solution was…tweezers. Yep, I spent hours in my room plucking out every second or third hair, so my mum never noticed, but yet I didn’t look like a gorilla. I never understood those Year 12 feminists who were allowed to shave their legs, BUT DIDN’T!! I mean, what’s so feminine about looking like a man?
Anyway, the point is that if anyone should have a hang-up about being hairy, it’s me. It should have cast a life-long psychological problem on me, where I neurotically spend every day shaving, plucking, waxing, lasering… or at least have a dislike of gorillas. But it didn’t. I shave my legs maybe once a week – yes, even in summer. I often go out and notice people staring at my underarm region, and realise that it’s probably due for some hair removal. As for my nether regions, I don’t keep to a strict regime. Sometimes there’s hair there, sometimes there’s not.
The only legacy that not being allowed to shave my legs left on me, is that I always thought I was “hairy”. It wasn’t until I read SJ’s book, that I realised I’m not actually that hairy compared to other women. I thought I was the only woman in the world with a few hairs in her bum crack. I now know that many women have it all over their behinds, on their bellies, down their thighs and on their nipples. How did I get to my late 30’s before I knew this? Oh that’s right… it’s because women pretend to other women they don’t have any body hair, and they’re embarrassed to even display a 2mm growth in public.
So, ladies, no more pretending to other women that we look pre-pubescent under our clothes. After all, the woman you’re pretending to KNOWS you’re pretending, because they have hair too. Now, repeat after me: “I’ll never apologise for having body hair again. I’ll never apologise for having body hair again. I’ll never apologise for having body hair again…”
Melissa, a former bookstore owner and librarian, has put her career on hold to be a full-time mum. She is passionate about books and reading and when time permits, she edits books for self-published authors.
Yesterday I looked in the mirror and decided I was long overdue for a stay-at-home-fix-my-face-up day. My eyebrows and eyelashes needed tinting and my lip, chin and nostrils needed waxing. I asked Mikey to help me and, of course, he said ‘yes’. My husband rocks when it comes to understanding what women need, he never questions me. And even though he thinks I’m naturally beautiful, he understands I need my little beauty treats every now and then. If it makes me happy, it makes him happy to.
What’s that saying…? Happy wife, happy life!
I was waxing myself in my office, which is also my beauty room. The room is at the back of the house and the window looks right onto the neighbours washing line. So I always close the blinds when I’m in beauty mode. We recently re-plastered the ceiling, so the room doesn’t have a light fitting. When the blinds are shut, all I have is a free standing lamp and a tiny desk light hovering above my wax pot. Not ideal for seeing facial hairs or mixing tinting solution.
I finished my waxing and began to prepare the tint solution. For the tint, I use brown on my brows and a mixture of blue-black and black on my eyelashes. When I pulled the tints out, the little stickers that tell you what shade the tint is had fallen off the black and the brown tint tubes. So in my dimly lit room, I was kind of guessing which one was which. And yes, you’ve probably guessed it by now, I put the black tint on my brows! Oh. Dear.
Mikey said I looked like the mono brow baby from The Simpsons.
When I reached into my tinting bag of goodies looking for my salon-strength tint remover, I discovered it had tipped over and it was completely empty. There was no tint remover to save me and, being Saturday, there were no professional salon supply stores open. So what did I do next? I applied more tint. This time, in a lighter shade of brown. I knew I would have to leave it on a long time to works its magic, so while the brow tint was on, I got Mikey to do my lashes (see photo number one).
After waiting ten minutes, I washed off the tint. My eyelashes were perfect and my eyebrows, well, they were only slightly lighter, but they still looked black (see photo number two). So I did what every other clear-thinking person would do – I Googled my troubles and discovered that this has happened to many other women.
Phew… I’m not alone.
My fellow Google users suggested these treatments:
- put lemon juice on your brows, sit in the sun and wait for them to lighten.
- use lip-bleaching cream on your brows (but don’t leave it on too long).
- alcohol (namely Vodka) or surgical spirit rubbed onto the brows.
- mayonnaise, dishwashing detergent or shampoo applied to brows daily; and
- simply wait for them to grow out!
Now I’m not recommending anyone else in the same situation try these. We do have to remember that our eyebrows are just above our eyes and we don’t want any of the above-mentioned dripping into them.
So after a mini meltdown and a lot of laughs from Mikey, I tried one more layer of lighter tint and decided I’d just wait for them to grow out. I don’t have any major functions on this week and I can stay at home for a few days and wear my big Jackie O sunglasses outdoors. It’s not the end of the world after all, it’s just my eyebrows and I’m grateful to have them.
How about you? Have you experienced any home beauty disasters? Leave them in the comments box below so together we can help other women with these small emergencies.
Until next time, happy grooming! SJx
So I was out to dinner with the girls last month discussing hair removing techniques whilst waiting for our mains to arrive. Andrea (meticulously groomed and gorgeous mother of one) piped up and said... "I've told Eamon (very understanding husband of hers) that if I have a stroke or I am in a coma, he's to pluck the dark hairs from my chin and keep my eyebrows perfectly manicured."
Wow....! WOW....! In all my years beside a waxing table, in amongst all the crazy requests and situations, throughout my twenty plus years of personal grooming, I had never thought to discuss this! Ever! With anyone! Sure I've openly discussed organ donation with my husband, but never hair-removing maintenance in a stroke or coma circumstance?
I guess this is a difficult subject to raise with loved ones, we never want to think of ourselves in this position, but note to my family and friends: If I am ever unable to physically remove unwanted hair from my face, I give you full permission to wax and tweeze my problem areas and tint my eyelashes, but please, PLEASE keep my eyebrow shape as it is, don't go crazy with the plucking, just the stray hairs underneath.
How about you? What's your unwanted hair story?