You will notice a common trend in my anecdotes of telling other people I need to shave my face every day. Absolutely no one says, "WHAT?!" No one laughs. No one wrinkles their nose or ostracizes me. They treat my confession calmly, with sympathy but without pity--perhaps because they don't know whether or not to be sorry for me--and they are always respectful.
If you're worried about telling someone about your excess hair, you should try to imagine what you might do if a friend told you one day that they had been hiding something like that. If it was somebody you had terrific rapport with, who you admired and appreciated for all their qualities, would it really change the way you felt about them?
But when it's a romantic interest and not a friend, the stakes are admittedly a little different. And at the beginning of a relationship we often spend so much effort trying to impress the other person. Knowing what a superficial world we live in, we've come to expect that the smallest hitch could make or break a relationship. ("She had man hands!") We stress over whether they can tell already, whether they might accidentally find out, and how they will react if or when we tell them. And the longer we hide the truth and the more attached we become to the other person, the bigger and more volatile our little secret can seem.
Still, at the very heart of the matter is the person, not the body. We're probably all tired of hearing the old homily "you can't judge a book by its cover." But worn out as it is, when it comes to love it is still true. Outward beauty as defined in magazines and on TV may attract the eye but the personality is what draws people--or at least, the sort of people one would want to date. Really, how healthy or fulfilling would a relationship be with someone who only liked others for the way they looked?
Perhaps we bearded women are lucky in that regard. Our excess body hair is like a built-in test; if it makes no difference to a man, it's a sign they might be a keeper! (Stretching for the silver lining, aren't we, Allerleirah? Yeah, I know.)
I definitely don't find it any easier, knowing this. I only ever told one man about my struggles. We never dated for various reasons, but we were quite close. Had we been in the right circumstances we probably would have got together, but as it was we settled for a rather charged friendship always on the cusp of romance. It might be pertinent to note that, cliche as it sounds, intelligence and sense of humor initially attracted us to each other. After eight months of amazing chemistry, I found myself wanting to tell him, if only to explain why I tensed up when he would try to touch me. Over the time we had known each other, I had been getting laser treatment done, so he had seen me holding an ice pack to my jaw and knew that every month I'd disappear off to a mysterious "appointment." So one day, staring fiercely down at my lap, I told him what I had been hiding.
"I kind of thought that might be it," he said, very gently. It was strange to feel almost disappointed that he didn't recoil--wasn't even surprised. Though I had not been able to imagine how he would react, I should have known I could at least trust him to be polite and sensitive to my feelings. And not only did it not shock him, it didn't change how he treated me at all. It really made no difference to him, even with a dramatic confession. It certainly felt strange to receive a rather anticlimactic reaction to something I had worked myself up about so often in the past.
Even though I had thought about it in the past, his reaction (or lack thereof) really made me consider: having an excess of colored protein filaments really doesn't affect the things you like or the things you're good at. It doesn't have any bearing on one's generosity or forgiveness or intelligence. It doesn't make a difference in how we care for others. So we should all try to prevent it from interfering with the way we feel about ourselves. It may not always be possible, but we should try.
It seems I'm not the only one thinking about the subject of body hair and relationships. Ayrton over at the Hypertrichosis Blog composed a dating entry for February 5, which I happened to hop over and see last week after I had finished my own post. (And boy, was my face red when he mentioned this blog in one of his earlier entries!) Ladies, it's one thing reading about what really matters in a relationship from a girl's perspective. It carries more weight coming from the other sex. I encourage you to have a look.
See you all next week!
February 24, 2009
February 19, 2009
Never as Big a Shock as it Seems
I should probably claim to update on Thursdays, seeing as how I rarely actually post by Wednesday. I blame it on starting this blog when I had Wednesdays off, and the fact that now days at the office always seems to fall on a Wednesday. So much for Hump Day.
I didn't feel like composing a trendy anti-Valentine's Day post this week. Other than a coworker handing me a Lindor chocolate--which was less a holiday observance and more a kind offer of work fuel, to my mind--I didn't even notice the passing of one of Hallmark's most lucrative days. But somehow, the topic for the next couple of posts ties in: telling your significant other, "Oh by the way, I'm the bearded lady."
This is a Big One for a lot of girls, whether they feel that finding that special someone is essential to their future happiness or they claim culture has brainwashed them into needing to be a couple. Love is a part of us all, and everyone wants to find it. I agree with people who say it's ingrained into our biology whether we admit it or not. And we all want to be desired. If we reconcile ourselves to having hair where society says we should not by methods of hiding, disguising, denying, etc., the thought of sharing this part of ourselves with another person is downright terrifying. The risks are all massive deterrents: hidden or open ridicule, their idea about us shifting, the secret spreading.
As I was typing, I wanted to go through my own few experiences chronologically. The first person I ever told about my hirsutism was a friend, and I found myself wanting to just talk about friends first in this post. I welcome other thoughts on the subject, too, if anyone feels like sharing.
The first person to learn my secret, outside of doctors and dermatologists and my mother, was my best friend at the time. We had been thrown together since toddlers and had a lot of the same interests but we went to different schools. She was the one who used to take me up to the mountains to stay with her family, where I could only stand to hog the bathroom for one morning trying to bleach my face before caving and trying to shave for the first time. We were walking back from the pool, all
chlorinated and sunburned and very relaxed, but I was feeling very down about all the time I had spent in the bathroom and how her family had razzed me about it. However, I was also feeling good about my decision to start the time-saving activity of shaving, so I felt like explaining the whole thing to her.
So that was why I'd held up the bathroom so long. From her tone, it sounded like it all made sense. She said she knew how I felt. She confessed she was self conscious about the blond vellus hair on her face, of which she felt she had too much. Never belittle a girlfriend's insecurities, because the severity of the things we hate about ourselves are all entirely relative; but dude, I would trade with her any day! She has such a mature, elegant, smoldering beauty and I see no way anyone could look at her and notice peach fuzz of any amount, large or small, let alone judge her on it. Lucky duckling. And then she told me something else. One of her older sisters had gone through the same thing as me, and laser hair removal had been her blessing. That was one of the biggest encouragements I received for trying it myself, because I knew someone who had actually done it and it worked. (Sadly, if you follow this blog you know by now that it did not have the same effect on me, but at least I tried, and now I know.)
The two of us don't talk about our body hair much. Part of that could be because over the years we've become too involved in our own separate worlds, which revolved around post secondary schooling, so when we do talk, it's usually about larger matters like college and staying sane and living alone. Even though the truth is out in the open, it still feels uncomfortable to poke at it, even to assure each other we know how the other feels. For goodness sake, I feel awkward discussing the problem with health professionals, and they see much more bizarre stuff than a woman who grows a beard. I even cringe when I hit "Publish Post" here. It's such a private thing that it feels strange to gab about it, even in girl talk. Perhaps not talking about it helps us to pretend that for most of the day, it doesn't exist.
Several years later I told another girlfriend, a college chum. She, too, had her share of cosmetic concerns. The acne medication she was taking was so potent that I used to go with her to the clinic every month for a blood test to make sure the stuff wasn't damaging her organs. All the same, it doesn't surprise you to see a girl with pimples, but a girl with five o'clock shadow on her chin? Yeah. A little unusual. So I had some trepidation in telling her. I honestly can't remember why I felt the urge to do so, especially after knowing her for four or five years already. I wonder if it wasn't because I finally knew the laser treatment was probably not going to be permanent for me and I needed someone to vent to about it. I remember being bundled up for the winter cold (which could be any eight months out of the year, where I live) and shuffling towards a bus stop when I told her about my hirsutism and the things I had been doing for it.
"Really?" she said, her tone quite level. It was calming--she takes all things in stride, even the most ridiculous news. Whether it was failing a project because it was turned in more than half an hour late, or a well-educated boyfriend suddenly deciding to make a drastic career change into the field of flight, or that a female friend has been hiding a burgeoning beard under a caked layer of make-up, she's not one to freak out. "I never would have known," she added. And that was the entire conversation. I bared my secret, and she accepted it with minimal astonishment, and we never talked about it again. We've never really had to, but at the time it was certainly nice to unburden myself. I get the feeling that most of the time when we meet up for tea or a shopping excursion, she's really not sitting there thinking, "Heh, you have a beard. I can't believe I'm friends with such a weirdo." On an everyday basis, I think people forget, because they see you, not your every hair follicle. The forest, not the trees.
This is certainly getting long, so thankfully that is the sum total of my confessions to friends. Next week, telling boyfriends. I promise.
I didn't feel like composing a trendy anti-Valentine's Day post this week. Other than a coworker handing me a Lindor chocolate--which was less a holiday observance and more a kind offer of work fuel, to my mind--I didn't even notice the passing of one of Hallmark's most lucrative days. But somehow, the topic for the next couple of posts ties in: telling your significant other, "Oh by the way, I'm the bearded lady."
This is a Big One for a lot of girls, whether they feel that finding that special someone is essential to their future happiness or they claim culture has brainwashed them into needing to be a couple. Love is a part of us all, and everyone wants to find it. I agree with people who say it's ingrained into our biology whether we admit it or not. And we all want to be desired. If we reconcile ourselves to having hair where society says we should not by methods of hiding, disguising, denying, etc., the thought of sharing this part of ourselves with another person is downright terrifying. The risks are all massive deterrents: hidden or open ridicule, their idea about us shifting, the secret spreading.
As I was typing, I wanted to go through my own few experiences chronologically. The first person I ever told about my hirsutism was a friend, and I found myself wanting to just talk about friends first in this post. I welcome other thoughts on the subject, too, if anyone feels like sharing.
The first person to learn my secret, outside of doctors and dermatologists and my mother, was my best friend at the time. We had been thrown together since toddlers and had a lot of the same interests but we went to different schools. She was the one who used to take me up to the mountains to stay with her family, where I could only stand to hog the bathroom for one morning trying to bleach my face before caving and trying to shave for the first time. We were walking back from the pool, all
chlorinated and sunburned and very relaxed, but I was feeling very down about all the time I had spent in the bathroom and how her family had razzed me about it. However, I was also feeling good about my decision to start the time-saving activity of shaving, so I felt like explaining the whole thing to her.So that was why I'd held up the bathroom so long. From her tone, it sounded like it all made sense. She said she knew how I felt. She confessed she was self conscious about the blond vellus hair on her face, of which she felt she had too much. Never belittle a girlfriend's insecurities, because the severity of the things we hate about ourselves are all entirely relative; but dude, I would trade with her any day! She has such a mature, elegant, smoldering beauty and I see no way anyone could look at her and notice peach fuzz of any amount, large or small, let alone judge her on it. Lucky duckling. And then she told me something else. One of her older sisters had gone through the same thing as me, and laser hair removal had been her blessing. That was one of the biggest encouragements I received for trying it myself, because I knew someone who had actually done it and it worked. (Sadly, if you follow this blog you know by now that it did not have the same effect on me, but at least I tried, and now I know.)
The two of us don't talk about our body hair much. Part of that could be because over the years we've become too involved in our own separate worlds, which revolved around post secondary schooling, so when we do talk, it's usually about larger matters like college and staying sane and living alone. Even though the truth is out in the open, it still feels uncomfortable to poke at it, even to assure each other we know how the other feels. For goodness sake, I feel awkward discussing the problem with health professionals, and they see much more bizarre stuff than a woman who grows a beard. I even cringe when I hit "Publish Post" here. It's such a private thing that it feels strange to gab about it, even in girl talk. Perhaps not talking about it helps us to pretend that for most of the day, it doesn't exist.
Several years later I told another girlfriend, a college chum. She, too, had her share of cosmetic concerns. The acne medication she was taking was so potent that I used to go with her to the clinic every month for a blood test to make sure the stuff wasn't damaging her organs. All the same, it doesn't surprise you to see a girl with pimples, but a girl with five o'clock shadow on her chin? Yeah. A little unusual. So I had some trepidation in telling her. I honestly can't remember why I felt the urge to do so, especially after knowing her for four or five years already. I wonder if it wasn't because I finally knew the laser treatment was probably not going to be permanent for me and I needed someone to vent to about it. I remember being bundled up for the winter cold (which could be any eight months out of the year, where I live) and shuffling towards a bus stop when I told her about my hirsutism and the things I had been doing for it.
"Really?" she said, her tone quite level. It was calming--she takes all things in stride, even the most ridiculous news. Whether it was failing a project because it was turned in more than half an hour late, or a well-educated boyfriend suddenly deciding to make a drastic career change into the field of flight, or that a female friend has been hiding a burgeoning beard under a caked layer of make-up, she's not one to freak out. "I never would have known," she added. And that was the entire conversation. I bared my secret, and she accepted it with minimal astonishment, and we never talked about it again. We've never really had to, but at the time it was certainly nice to unburden myself. I get the feeling that most of the time when we meet up for tea or a shopping excursion, she's really not sitting there thinking, "Heh, you have a beard. I can't believe I'm friends with such a weirdo." On an everyday basis, I think people forget, because they see you, not your every hair follicle. The forest, not the trees.
This is certainly getting long, so thankfully that is the sum total of my confessions to friends. Next week, telling boyfriends. I promise.
February 12, 2009
Hairless Holidays and Hotel Bathrooms
Hello all, I'm back from the States and the Bahamas, where the water was so chilly that worrying about being bikini worthy was a moot point. High winds rendered all our planned water sports too dangerous. The only time I entered the water was when I had to get into a dolphin tank, and I kept as many clothes on as I could.
The thing is, when you're a hirsute gal, you have more to worry about than the rash-inducing force it takes to deforest the bikini line. Even if the swimsuit is not part of your planned wardrobe, there are other kinds of clothing that create an extra challenge. What if, in your excitement, you threw your hands up in the air, pulling up your shirt and exposing a treasure trail the envy of many an adolescent boy? Or what if it's a dress up night and your fantastic little black dress has a plunging neckline, but your cleavage has seen so much of the razor that most of the hair hasn't yet broken the skin?
And then there's the facial hair, my most constant worry. Our first hotel room was set up in my least favorite way: with the sink and mirror outside the bathroom door. My roommate was an early riser, and it was important to her to get up before I did because she knows how long I take in the bathroom at home. That first morning I woke up wondering how I would be able to swing this one. Maybe she would get in the shower and I would have time to quickly shave before she came back out. But with the humidity, she didn't want to get her hair wet in the morning. I slowly got ready for a shower myself, continuing to puzzle it over in my mind. What if I just started shaving, out in the open, with her right there? She probably wouldn't say or do anything. The puzzle might fall into place in her head, but sensing the sensitivity of the situation, she might never bring it up in conversation. But what if she brought it up in conversation with others? That's the sad thing about getting step-siblings after high school. You'll never know them well enough to trust them with some things. Or maybe that's just me.
When I had gone camping one year with a big group of family and friends--the year after I used to sit in the jeep and tweeze in the mirror--I had actually taken the mirror into the campground shower with me and shaved in the giant, spider infested stall. That memory always brings to mind some woman's tart voice as she lined up outside the stall yelling, "Are you going to be much longer?" That voice still haunts me. But regardless, I contemplated the act of shaving in the shower, this time sans reflective object. I've been shaving for years, I know how my face is shaped, the distribution of stubble and how each stroke feels. Did I really need the mirror? It is always such a pain to have to hunch over a sink and mirror only to get into the shower again to quickly do everything else, or vice versa.
I kept doing it because it was the easiest solution, but man, what a miserable time for my face. My judgment for how much pressure to use was all off. It took me nearly twice as long shaving by feel, and I was always nicking my chin. And of course, the more battered and uneven the skin, the more difficult it is to cover it up with make up. Dabbing on some concealer, wiping it off, making it bleed again, waiting for it to stop, patting some powder on first, wiping it off... I hated the mornings. I hated the feeling that everyone was always waiting for me. That's one of the worst things about vacations. But it wears off--eventually you leave your morning rituals behind you and become simply... you. And I had a marvellous time every day, even after I caught a cold and mother nature brought her monthly gift. Always on vacation. It never fails.
I've already settled back into work and am slowly picking up all the pieces I couldn't madly get done at the last minute. But the infinitely good thing about returning home from holidays, for a befurred lady like myself, is being able to get back to her own sink and mirror, with lighting and climate and timing she's learned to work with.
Also, I have some hopeful news. I'm meeting with a new GP today; a woman for a change. This is just an initial interview so they don't usually investigate your body at this point, but if we like her, she'll be our new family doctor. And then I'm going to try to put into motion some tests to find out why I have all the hair I do, and from there, what can be done about it.
The thing is, when you're a hirsute gal, you have more to worry about than the rash-inducing force it takes to deforest the bikini line. Even if the swimsuit is not part of your planned wardrobe, there are other kinds of clothing that create an extra challenge. What if, in your excitement, you threw your hands up in the air, pulling up your shirt and exposing a treasure trail the envy of many an adolescent boy? Or what if it's a dress up night and your fantastic little black dress has a plunging neckline, but your cleavage has seen so much of the razor that most of the hair hasn't yet broken the skin?
And then there's the facial hair, my most constant worry. Our first hotel room was set up in my least favorite way: with the sink and mirror outside the bathroom door. My roommate was an early riser, and it was important to her to get up before I did because she knows how long I take in the bathroom at home. That first morning I woke up wondering how I would be able to swing this one. Maybe she would get in the shower and I would have time to quickly shave before she came back out. But with the humidity, she didn't want to get her hair wet in the morning. I slowly got ready for a shower myself, continuing to puzzle it over in my mind. What if I just started shaving, out in the open, with her right there? She probably wouldn't say or do anything. The puzzle might fall into place in her head, but sensing the sensitivity of the situation, she might never bring it up in conversation. But what if she brought it up in conversation with others? That's the sad thing about getting step-siblings after high school. You'll never know them well enough to trust them with some things. Or maybe that's just me.
When I had gone camping one year with a big group of family and friends--the year after I used to sit in the jeep and tweeze in the mirror--I had actually taken the mirror into the campground shower with me and shaved in the giant, spider infested stall. That memory always brings to mind some woman's tart voice as she lined up outside the stall yelling, "Are you going to be much longer?" That voice still haunts me. But regardless, I contemplated the act of shaving in the shower, this time sans reflective object. I've been shaving for years, I know how my face is shaped, the distribution of stubble and how each stroke feels. Did I really need the mirror? It is always such a pain to have to hunch over a sink and mirror only to get into the shower again to quickly do everything else, or vice versa.
I kept doing it because it was the easiest solution, but man, what a miserable time for my face. My judgment for how much pressure to use was all off. It took me nearly twice as long shaving by feel, and I was always nicking my chin. And of course, the more battered and uneven the skin, the more difficult it is to cover it up with make up. Dabbing on some concealer, wiping it off, making it bleed again, waiting for it to stop, patting some powder on first, wiping it off... I hated the mornings. I hated the feeling that everyone was always waiting for me. That's one of the worst things about vacations. But it wears off--eventually you leave your morning rituals behind you and become simply... you. And I had a marvellous time every day, even after I caught a cold and mother nature brought her monthly gift. Always on vacation. It never fails.
I've already settled back into work and am slowly picking up all the pieces I couldn't madly get done at the last minute. But the infinitely good thing about returning home from holidays, for a befurred lady like myself, is being able to get back to her own sink and mirror, with lighting and climate and timing she's learned to work with.
Also, I have some hopeful news. I'm meeting with a new GP today; a woman for a change. This is just an initial interview so they don't usually investigate your body at this point, but if we like her, she'll be our new family doctor. And then I'm going to try to put into motion some tests to find out why I have all the hair I do, and from there, what can be done about it.
January 21, 2009
Disguising the Fur: Shaving and Other Methods
Here's my last post on methods of hair removal that I've tried--at least for now. For those of you who've missed the others, you can read back or follow these links:
Laser hair removal: here and here
Plucking and trimming: here
Bleaching and chemical depilatories: here
Shaving
As I've probably said before, I graduated from bleaching to shaving quite suddenly while on vacation with a friend's family. I tried to bleach in private that first day in the tiny little trailer bathroom and it inconvenienced others too much--and led to sharp, mocking comments later. I had been thinking of shaving for a while but had never had the guts. I finally found the courage--or desperation--as a teenager on summer vacation in a closet-sized loo in a gorgeous mountain park. All I had was my leg razor at the time and some fruit-scented shaving gel. It was quick, my skin felt smooth, the stubble was hard to see. I was hooked, but it was hard to believe at that time that I'd still be doing the same thing now.
What don't I love about shaving?
Over time my method has evolved as my skin and hair have changed. They discontinued the replacement cartridges for my old razor, and disposables became a cheaper solution (now, I can keep one for my face and one for legs and other areas). Soaking my face in warm water and regular (but not daily) exfoliation have become more important over time--as has moisturizing. I've experimented with the tautness of the skin and the direction of the blade relative to the direction of the hair growth. Some resources recommend leaving the gel on your skin for a few minutes before shaving to help condition the skin, but I have not found this to make a significant difference in any way. And I've tried different treatments after the shave. (Astringents are certainly not for me, I have found. )
Right now, I'm on a mission to find a shave gel I really like. I'm torn on this question: Is it better that it's designed for a woman, or designed for a man but for the face? I just feel really awkward sidling into the men's section of the hair removal aisle, and am worried I'll bring undue attention to what I'm buying by blurting, "It's, uh, for my boyfriend. Yeah. My boyfriend."
Overall, though, I'm stuck on shaving because I find it to be the most efficient solution to hiding stubble. I'm a busy girl and I have to be considerate of others in the house. But I can tell my skin is very tired of the process, so I've begun to designate a holiday for my face once a week. I stay hidden and do nothing but cleanse and moisturize my chin and jaw, and work from home. Resting my chin on a fist and getting unexpectedly prickled does tend to make me feel unfeminine, but a shave always feels best after a couple days of growth.
For the products I currently prefer to use, see this post.
Other Methods
Waxing/sugaring: I have never done this on my face, because I simply cannot wait for the hair to grow the required length. I have tried both hot and cold wax on my legs and stomach, and have found the do-it-yourself method to be pretty hit-or-miss. I would be willing to get used to the pain if the payoff were better, but I get plenty of irritation and am not terribly skilled at getting all the hairs in one or even two attempts. Plus, it's just messy. ;-p
Epilator: Something I might consider looking into. It gets such mixed reviews that I'm fairly sure I'll just have to try it for myself. I'm quite accustomed to the sensation of plucking on my face, so I might find this a more efficient and happy medium between tweezing and shaving.
Threading: Something else that piqued my interest the first time I heard about it--which has only been in the past year or so. I probably wouldn't go the old fashioned way, but I thought of trying something like the Epicare.
Electrolysis: Though I was aware of this process before I'd ever heard of laser treatment, the risks like scarring made this solution unappealing. And considering how mysterious the cause of my excess hair is, it's probably best I withhold from anymore expensive treatments until I discover what's behind all this.
D-I-Y Laser Treatment: I won't name any companies who offer these products, but I find the idea of putting anything similar to the professional process into the hands of the average joe to be very disconcerting, not to mention far-fetched. And I've read disappointing reviews which I'm inclined to believe.
Prescriptions: Apparently there are some oral and topical medications out there that are supposed to reduce hair growth. The dermatologist who referred me to the laser clinic mentioned the desire to have me test one such cream, but that didn't go any further than an offhand comment. I'll wait until the cause of my hypertrichosis has been named before I worry about these. Speaking of which, some hirsute women have found that a birth control pill works on the cause of their darker body hair. It's a good idea to make sure you know the reason behind your problem before you invest in certain methods (says I without a hint of irony).
For more information on hair removal methods, take a look at the HairTell forums. I often go there for information.
There will be no updates until February 11. I'm off on vacation to a much sunnier part of the world, where I intend to wear shorts, skirts and v-neck shirts, and dare I add bikinis... sharing a hotel room with a member of my family who I do not trust with my little secret. But nothing's going to stop me from having my fun, I promise.
Take care of yourselves, lovelies!
Laser hair removal: here and here
Plucking and trimming: here
Bleaching and chemical depilatories: here
Shaving
As I've probably said before, I graduated from bleaching to shaving quite suddenly while on vacation with a friend's family. I tried to bleach in private that first day in the tiny little trailer bathroom and it inconvenienced others too much--and led to sharp, mocking comments later. I had been thinking of shaving for a while but had never had the guts. I finally found the courage--or desperation--as a teenager on summer vacation in a closet-sized loo in a gorgeous mountain park. All I had was my leg razor at the time and some fruit-scented shaving gel. It was quick, my skin felt smooth, the stubble was hard to see. I was hooked, but it was hard to believe at that time that I'd still be doing the same thing now.
What don't I love about shaving?- I find breakouts and ingrown hairs are more common with this method than any other.
- As time has worn on, I've also got a permanent rash of bumps and pinkness from irritation.
- A moment of carelessness may mean nicking those uneven spots and making it even worse (chins bleed like ankles--they never stop!)
- Extreme dryness from the shave and possibly the gel have made applying makeup very difficult.
- All that stretching of my skin to get the closest shave possible is something I know I'll be paying for in my 40's and 50's.
Over time my method has evolved as my skin and hair have changed. They discontinued the replacement cartridges for my old razor, and disposables became a cheaper solution (now, I can keep one for my face and one for legs and other areas). Soaking my face in warm water and regular (but not daily) exfoliation have become more important over time--as has moisturizing. I've experimented with the tautness of the skin and the direction of the blade relative to the direction of the hair growth. Some resources recommend leaving the gel on your skin for a few minutes before shaving to help condition the skin, but I have not found this to make a significant difference in any way. And I've tried different treatments after the shave. (Astringents are certainly not for me, I have found. )
Right now, I'm on a mission to find a shave gel I really like. I'm torn on this question: Is it better that it's designed for a woman, or designed for a man but for the face? I just feel really awkward sidling into the men's section of the hair removal aisle, and am worried I'll bring undue attention to what I'm buying by blurting, "It's, uh, for my boyfriend. Yeah. My boyfriend."
Overall, though, I'm stuck on shaving because I find it to be the most efficient solution to hiding stubble. I'm a busy girl and I have to be considerate of others in the house. But I can tell my skin is very tired of the process, so I've begun to designate a holiday for my face once a week. I stay hidden and do nothing but cleanse and moisturize my chin and jaw, and work from home. Resting my chin on a fist and getting unexpectedly prickled does tend to make me feel unfeminine, but a shave always feels best after a couple days of growth.
For the products I currently prefer to use, see this post.
Other Methods
Waxing/sugaring: I have never done this on my face, because I simply cannot wait for the hair to grow the required length. I have tried both hot and cold wax on my legs and stomach, and have found the do-it-yourself method to be pretty hit-or-miss. I would be willing to get used to the pain if the payoff were better, but I get plenty of irritation and am not terribly skilled at getting all the hairs in one or even two attempts. Plus, it's just messy. ;-p
Epilator: Something I might consider looking into. It gets such mixed reviews that I'm fairly sure I'll just have to try it for myself. I'm quite accustomed to the sensation of plucking on my face, so I might find this a more efficient and happy medium between tweezing and shaving.
Threading: Something else that piqued my interest the first time I heard about it--which has only been in the past year or so. I probably wouldn't go the old fashioned way, but I thought of trying something like the Epicare.
Electrolysis: Though I was aware of this process before I'd ever heard of laser treatment, the risks like scarring made this solution unappealing. And considering how mysterious the cause of my excess hair is, it's probably best I withhold from anymore expensive treatments until I discover what's behind all this.
D-I-Y Laser Treatment: I won't name any companies who offer these products, but I find the idea of putting anything similar to the professional process into the hands of the average joe to be very disconcerting, not to mention far-fetched. And I've read disappointing reviews which I'm inclined to believe.
Prescriptions: Apparently there are some oral and topical medications out there that are supposed to reduce hair growth. The dermatologist who referred me to the laser clinic mentioned the desire to have me test one such cream, but that didn't go any further than an offhand comment. I'll wait until the cause of my hypertrichosis has been named before I worry about these. Speaking of which, some hirsute women have found that a birth control pill works on the cause of their darker body hair. It's a good idea to make sure you know the reason behind your problem before you invest in certain methods (says I without a hint of irony).For more information on hair removal methods, take a look at the HairTell forums. I often go there for information.
There will be no updates until February 11. I'm off on vacation to a much sunnier part of the world, where I intend to wear shorts, skirts and v-neck shirts, and dare I add bikinis... sharing a hotel room with a member of my family who I do not trust with my little secret. But nothing's going to stop me from having my fun, I promise.
Take care of yourselves, lovelies!
January 14, 2009
Disguising the Fur: Bleaching and Chemical Depilatories
Any woman who has felt the chafing of freshly shaved legs on a treadmill would agree with me that women aren't meant to remove their hair. Ouch. (I'm trying some lidocaine. I'll be doing a lot of walking on my trip.)
But it has become the expectation to be smooth and hairless, and so to help us particularly endowed ladies to fit in with the norm, on with the show.
Bleaching
Still too afraid to take a real blade to my face, I tried a bleach specially designed for facial hair. You can often see this particular brand on the hair removal shelves of any drugstore (it also comes in the "sensitive skin" variety, which I preferred even though I noticed no difference to my skin or its performance). I have always been happy enough with what it does that I've never tried a different brand.
After washing the area with soap and cold water, you mix one part of the powder with two parts of the cream, and cover the hair to be bleached with the mixture. Wait ten minutes, and if it isn't lightened to your satisfaction, keep it on for another five to ten minutes. You can also reuse the mixture on other areas--I often mixed enough for my chin, then reapplied it to one side and then the other of my jaw. Of course, this meant a ritual of almost an hour every morning. And try doing that outside the safety of your own home and not getting asked questions about it. It's certainly not the most convenient method when camping. Other cons:
Chemical Depilatories
Never had a fantastic experience with these on my legs--what do you do to kill time when you can't even sit or walk while the cream reacts to the hair? And no matter how gentle it claims to be on the tube, I always get the same irritation and ingrown hairs as I would had I simply used a razor. So you can imagine my hesitance when a family member gave me a facial depilatory cream from Avon. I hadn't realized she knew.
But I tried it. I did the allergy test. I even forewent shaving the day before and hid in the my room to get some extra hair growth going. It smelled like all depilatory creams do, which may bother some, but to me it's a necessary evil. You leave it on for three minutes, and if that doesn't yield a satisfactory result, it's only recommended you give it an extra five minutes. Aside from the lack of irritation, I was disappointed. Cons:
It's quick, not irritating (for me, anyway), but the results on my face certainly weren't as smooth as shaving. However, I have just started using it on hair that is not so coarse but might still benefit from a gentler solution, and it is working nicely. (As nicely as can be said when hair seems to grow so fast that noticable stubble is an every day battle.) Keep in mind that even though it is designed for your face, it should still not be used near eyes, on nipples, in noses, ears, or on genital areas.
More next week. Again, reader experiences are welcome.
But it has become the expectation to be smooth and hairless, and so to help us particularly endowed ladies to fit in with the norm, on with the show.
Bleaching
Still too afraid to take a real blade to my face, I tried a bleach specially designed for facial hair. You can often see this particular brand on the hair removal shelves of any drugstore (it also comes in the "sensitive skin" variety, which I preferred even though I noticed no difference to my skin or its performance). I have always been happy enough with what it does that I've never tried a different brand.
After washing the area with soap and cold water, you mix one part of the powder with two parts of the cream, and cover the hair to be bleached with the mixture. Wait ten minutes, and if it isn't lightened to your satisfaction, keep it on for another five to ten minutes. You can also reuse the mixture on other areas--I often mixed enough for my chin, then reapplied it to one side and then the other of my jaw. Of course, this meant a ritual of almost an hour every morning. And try doing that outside the safety of your own home and not getting asked questions about it. It's certainly not the most convenient method when camping. Other cons:
- Slight pinkness of the skin sitting under the bleach, even using the sensitive skin formula. It wasn't painful and went away quickly, but considering the incriminating beard shape, it was something I found I needed to disguise if going out in a hurry.
- The darker and coarser my hair got over time, the harder it was to bleach in one go. On my stomach, for instance, they went a sort of orange in twenty minutes, rather than blond.
- Also because of the progressive darkening and thickening of hair, I began to find I could no longer bleach right to the skin, so there was a tiny bit of pigment still visible right at skin level.
- Although the hair is lighter after bleaching, it is still there, and just as long or wiry. Try bleaching in conjunction with trimming or plucking and see if that creates a happy medium for you.
Chemical Depilatories
Never had a fantastic experience with these on my legs--what do you do to kill time when you can't even sit or walk while the cream reacts to the hair? And no matter how gentle it claims to be on the tube, I always get the same irritation and ingrown hairs as I would had I simply used a razor. So you can imagine my hesitance when a family member gave me a facial depilatory cream from Avon. I hadn't realized she knew.
But I tried it. I did the allergy test. I even forewent shaving the day before and hid in the my room to get some extra hair growth going. It smelled like all depilatory creams do, which may bother some, but to me it's a necessary evil. You leave it on for three minutes, and if that doesn't yield a satisfactory result, it's only recommended you give it an extra five minutes. Aside from the lack of irritation, I was disappointed. Cons:
- It reacts with the hair, but not close enough to my skin's surface to avoid the visible stubble of my thicker hair.
It's quick, not irritating (for me, anyway), but the results on my face certainly weren't as smooth as shaving. However, I have just started using it on hair that is not so coarse but might still benefit from a gentler solution, and it is working nicely. (As nicely as can be said when hair seems to grow so fast that noticable stubble is an every day battle.) Keep in mind that even though it is designed for your face, it should still not be used near eyes, on nipples, in noses, ears, or on genital areas.
More next week. Again, reader experiences are welcome.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)