No-Shave November For The Ladies?! Yup. I Turned Into A Woolly Mammoth For Two Months

This article can also be found at Degree180.

No-Shave November has finally come to an end and I think every year those of us who participate are secretly a little sad about it. Some of us even decided to go hardcore this year and start early. That’s right, as I’m writing this I haven’t shaved any part of my body since the end of September and I’m still going strong.

This is serious business.

So why did I do this, you ask? I’ve always wondered why society is so absurdly obsessed with hairless women. I mean, body hair is natural after all. I’d always admired the women who were confident enough to walk around in tank tops in the summer while sporting ungroomed armpit hair despite our obsession with smooth skin. So naturally my next thought was, why not try it out myself?

And like any inquisitive journalist, I decided to chronicle my experiences.

Here’s how it went down:

Week one. Alright, I’m in the first week of my undertaking in early October and this is no big deal. Just a little stubble here and there. I can totally do this.

Week two. Oh God, the hair is getting more noticeable. I TOTALLY can’t wear tank tops anymore. Come to think of it, that’s alright; I’m sure I have enough long-sleeved and armpit-covering shirts to last me until laundry day. Sure weather is unusually warm here this fall but I’ll manage. Glass-half-full perspective: my showers are way shorter now!

Week three. Okay…it’s still October and the barometer reads 80 degrees outside. Definitely too hot for a long-sleeved shirt. I’m going to wear a damn tank top and I don’t care if people notice my armpits! If they don’t like it then they don’t have to look! Fast-Forward to later that night: I’m in a tank top at a cafe and no one has yelled “hot mess.” I haven’t even caught a sideways glance.

Maybe this really isn’t so bad after all…

Week four. I casually mention to some male friends that I haven’t shaved any of my body hair in a month and one of them says, “EWWWW, GROSS!!!”

Welp, can’t please everyone.

Week five. Today after I clock off my shift at work this weird guy came up to me, bragging about his “psychic powers” (because I always attract the winners). I can’t get him to leave me alone, and so I mentally debated trying out the “I-haven’t-shaved-in-over-a-month” rebuttal, but sadly he leaves before I have the chance. In any case, I’ve resolves that this no-shaving thing may turn out to be a douchebag repellent! Because really, who wants to date someone with sexist double standards anyway? Not I. I’ll hit ’em whip with my old-school feminism and they’ll be outta here faster than they can say, “ingrown hair!”

Week six. Speaking of ingrown hairs, they are seriously no joke. My legs are covered in irritating little red bumps! How do guys put up with this all the time? Might be time to invest in some exfoliating products. Having hair this long is getting to be a little uncomfortable – but I’m not giving in yet!

Week seven. I think I’m pretty much completely past the gross factor of having body hair at this point. It’s just the norm to me now. My armpit hair is maybe long enough to braid, but I don’t care too much. Barometer is plummeting and I surely ain’t walkin’ around in tank tops no more anyway.

Week eight. It’s the end of the second month now and I’m currently looking back on the past couple months, thinking about what I’ve learned from all of this. Will I shave again? The answer to that question is an emphatic yes. I’ve come to the conclusion that although I’m generally okay with having body hair at this point, it’s just a little too physically annoying and uncomfortable for my liking.

That being said, the absolute most important thing I learned from doing this experiment is that previously I was really just shaving for other people’s approval. I was doing it so that society would feel more comfortable with how I look, which is a pretty stupid reason to do anything if you ask me. If nothing else, I know that even though I do plan to start shaving again, I’m going to be WAY less diligent about it from now on, because honestly I just couldn’t give fewer fucks anymore about whether my legs are silky smooth every single day of the year.

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