Oz Blogs: Let it Grow

I have blue eyes. I always have had, and always will have, blue eyes. I don't mind having blue eyes, but I have been told that I'd be prettier if I didn't. When I feel like people are talking about my eye colour it makes me self conscious- maybe they're right? Maybe I would be more likeable if I listen to them?

Now, replace the words in bold with 'body hair'. Sounds ridiculous, right? That's because it is- and I think we should talk about it.

For those of you who have been here from the start, you'll know that I've been trying my best not to become phased or ruled by what other people think about me for some time now. This became particularly prominent when beginning my studies abroad, as it's been a great opportunity to truly embrace who I am and put the middle finger up to any over-opinionated strangers (as I'm literally at the biggest uni campus in the Southern Hemisphere, the likelihood of ever seeing half of those such people ever again is immensely unlikely).

However, one brief conversation with a friend sparked an interesting debate and reignited an old spark of embarrassment-

I was, and still am not, the most attractive young person ever, and being specky has not worked in my favour. Yet my poor eyesight is not the key source of childhood bullying trauma, but my body hair.

There are two key incidents regarding this topic which have never left me: the first, a swimming lesson when I was 12 whereby my leg hair was commented on, and second, when I was around 14 and I found my forearm hair making me worthy of being compared to a Gorilla.

And yes, on both occasions the name callers were male.

Although seemingly insignificant, it had a profound impact on my self confidence all throughout high school, and recently I have found these old demons creeping in again.

Despite being surrounded by equally liberal gal pals in both hemispheres, the input of guys (both from personal experience and other friends' stories) has not gone unnoticed. I kick myself for succumbing to the unnecessary shame surrounding the culture of women's shaving, but when the appearance of your legs and armpits is continually subject to the opinions of others, it's pretty difficult not to take it to heart.

Pinterest: Marlen Komar

Being flung into a hotter climate these last few weeks so soon after winter means I've struggled to get used to shaving more often than usual. But why should it be an issue at all? Am I letting myself go? Should I be taking better care of myself? These questions have circled my head, and you know what? I actually don't think I am. I have always said to myself that hair wouldn't grow if it wasn't meant to, and I want to stick by that. Why are we all so freaked out by the presence of hair anywhere other than a woman's head when really, a societal stereotype or expectation is all it is.

I think it's time for everyone to stop caring so much about what other people choose to do with themselves. It isn't our business to comment on the presence, or lack of, a man's beard, nor on the appearance of his chest or underarms, so it's certainly nobody's place to do so with women. We all have hair in the same places anyway, so promoting this as a normality is one of the best ways we can start to chip away at the expectation that we all should be walking around like naked mole rats.

I think there is beauty in not caring, or at least not becoming phased, and this is what I want to strive for. Be a woman who takes control of her appearance regardless of the thoughts of others. Hairy toes or fluffy thighs are just as acceptable as whether your eyes are blue or green- the only difference between you and the name callers is your attitude.

Vicky x