I previously promised a variety of content, some of which will be about me. This about me. More accurately, it is about my body hair, and the luxurious overabundance thereof and my less than successful  removal adventures : you’re welcome to skip off to another place on the internet, if this is low-key gross to you.  It’ll be more fun than reading about The Orange  Hair Hitler’s latest trash-can fire of a decision, so maybe stick out this entry.

I come from hairy people. Like, I’m genetically fucked. I also over-produce testosterone: I had pubes before I had boobs, and I had my little mustache Lasered way by age 17. I’ve come to terms with shaving my pits 4 times a week and my legs daily. I’ve accepted the reality that the same genetics that make me tan year round  and give me a little, wiry frame give me a bikini line that’s more like a colonizing empire than a small island. However.

I have a beard. This adventure  in hair-having started at 16 when a crush noticed a single chest-hair on my bony little sternum. Two days later, while having crisis related to frosted lipstick in the bathroom (because lipstick only came in frosted ,horrible shades until 2012) I found a single neck-hair and a single chin-hair. Because I didn’t have a tight-nit squad of girlfriends or whatever (or any at all) no one told me I should freak the fuck out, so I did not. Not Until 5 years ago, when I realized I was shaving every day, and  that my the then- boyfriend could tell, did I start to worry.

I have epilated. I have used Japanese and South Korean devises .  I HAVE USED FUCKING VANIQUA . I have used Tria. I have also waxed. Rather, I have traumatized countless, beautiful, hairless gay estheticians  by having them wax me.

No matter what fastidious methods I use to avoid ingrowns, I get them. The last time I waxed was the last straw. 2 weeks after i waxed my fucking lower neck (I don’t have a few hairs, I have *subreddit-editor quality neckbeard) I got an ingrown SO LARGE that I am still recovering from looking like I have a golf-ball artfully imbedded in my jaw-line. It was horrible. I didn’t want people to see me. I try to be thick skinned. I can cope with the mild humiliation I feel on a daily basis , or the worry that other women look at my jawline and notice  that there’s a shadow, but shaving my face every day is bad for my skin and ingrown hair related scarring is too much. I’m dropping the millions of stupid dollars to get this stuff lasered away once and for all. I’m going to make a plea to the mothers of hairy Pre-teen and teen girls. LET THE FUCKING GIRL GET RID OF IT ,OMG. Puh-LEEZ. this shit its stupid. Sometimes hair isn’t about feminism or vanity, it’s about pain and expense. A unibow is one thing, a beard is another.

*not sorry. I know, #notallsubredditors.

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December 11teenth

I just deleted my old blogs and I’m starting over.

For the past few months, I’ve written nothing for public consumption, because I’ve felt that I had no right to express what I thought on the internet  when the world around me was going to utter fucking hell. Unfortunately the world is always , more or less, on its way to shite , and me shutting up in the face of that does exactly nothing. That’s how shit stays the same.

So.

I’ll be writing here once a week at minimum. What I have to say won’t always be NPR-worthy content. It won’t always be funny, and it may be selfish, but it’s mine and because you are both a voyeuristic and espial and possibly just-ended-up-here-by-change-while-pooping kind of person, you’ll read.

I have to go to Target because I’m out of soymilk ,and the chairs in The prolific Oven are hurting my deadlift-sore butt-cheeks.

Hyphens forever,

D

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