I'm willing to agree that being so consumed with hair removal techniques and ways to hide my hirsutism can be distracting from a more important thing. That thing is self acceptance. Self respect. Self like.
That's a thing that's hard enough for any person to develop, never mind a girl or woman who, through no fault of their own, grows a socially unacceptable amount of hair. When we are inundated by images of smooth and flawless "beauty," when people in general don't understand and accept the hair, how can we?
I don't know. I'm still learning as I go. I'm getting better. Six years ago when I moved in with my new step-family, I bleached or shaved every day. I hid my supplies in my room and took them with me to the bathroom every morning, then methodically put them back out of sight when I was done. I couldn't bear the thought of anyone getting the smallest inkling towards my secret. Now, my various shaving tools are all under the sink and I routinely have one day of the week where I don't shave at all at home, and go about in my stubbly glory. I still try to stay out of bright light and don't get to0 close to people, but I'm not as afraid as I used to be. Let them see and wonder. I'm still me.
I think maybe when we go around behaving as if we don't have a problem, most people won't even notice--or once dazzled by our true and radiant selves they'll forget the shadow, the stubble, the razor burn, the flash of a treasure trail. And anyway, really, do we have a problem? A problem is literally defined as: "any question or matter involving doubt, uncertainty, or difficulty" by Dictionary.com. If we remove the doubt and uncertainty within ourselves, will hirsutism really be a problem?
People come in all shapes and sizes. Most are not society's "ideal." I have met my share of people with disfiguring illnesses or scars--things that can't be disguised. They go about their business because they simply have no choice, and when their lives intersect with mine, even for a brief moment as I service them at my job, I see what they probably wish I couldn't see. But as I talk to them throughout the course of a transaction, their personality comes through. Cheesy, I know, but it's true. They may or may not be wondering if I'm looking, but when they're not worried and are just having good old gab with me, you can bet I'm not thinking about what I see.
Act like it's not a problem, and others probably won't see it as a problem. Act like that long enough and perhaps we'll actually end up feeling like it's not a problem. And then, when confronted by the mockery or rejection of a shallow, short-sighted bigot who is really not worth knowing, will their ignorance really bother us?
But how to get that point where we don't give a damn what others think, because we're content with ourselves? That's the challenge. Some of it comes with time, I've found. Even though I've been cowering in fear and protecting my secret, plucking and bleaching and trimming and shaving for years, I'm slowly hating that reflection less and less. I think it helps that once a week I address the Internet as a pointedly hairy woman and speak as frankly as I can about it.
Maybe for now, hiding the hair and trying medications to make life a little easier is what I need to do so that I have the confidence to go out into the world and gain as many experiences as I can. It's up to me. No one else's love or respect is truly going to make me like myself. It has to come from within. And the more I know and trust myself and feel proud of my accomplishments, the more content I will be--not as a bearded lady, but simply as me.