Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Coming out of the closet (bathroom) with my beard

So recently, if you are one of the 7 people who follow and actually read my blog, you may know that Jarrad and I purchased a house together. What you may not know is that we've invited backpackers to stay in our spare rooms. We have Lisa, a really sweet blonde German girl, and the two recent additions of Connie and Fiona, who I'm pretty sorta sure are Tai girls. They are also awesome because they love Crayon Shin Chan and recognized the figure I have in my room of him.
So I've been sprouting hair in the oddest places since I was about 11 but no place has been odder and more horrific than a manly little beard I've got going on, for reals. I was totally addicted to shaving when I was in my teens, and while you'd think this would help, it only serves to make the problem more obvious since industrious shaving habits create awful red razor burns and hair that grows back much thicker and much faster. If you check out the pictures of myself that I've posted on my blog you can sort of see the irritated areas around my neck from shaving but if I don't shave I would never ever leave the house. When there was no one else staying here I would plan my week around shaving my face, since leaving it for a day or two lessens the irritation caused by shaving religiously every single day. At the height of my obsession I would shave twice a day and still not go outside more than I had to.

It is really embarrassing to notice people looking. I was always called names like 'wolf girl' and 'ape girl' in school, before I learned to bleach, wax, or shave. The new backpacker lady staying, Fiona, seems to be quite curious, as I can totally see her checking me out out the corner of my eye. You sort of have to build up an immunity to people looking and sometimes I will just tell people outright like, "Hey, I have PCOS and I have tons of hair in shitty places because of a hormonal imbalance -insert awkward and comforting smile-"

When I was in Armadale there was a woman there that I chased down because she didn't shave and was around my age. I thought she was super super brave because of it, but she turned out to be a really ugly personality on the inside and I really felt sorry for her and tried to become friends only to be shut out in the cold by her. I understand that though. Sometimes I just wanna lock myself inside and never come out again. When I catch people looking while I'm waiting in line a McDonalds or someplace it is really hard to know what to do. Do I wave at them? Do I fucking smile or scowl or shrug? That is alot of the reason while I wear sunglasses in public places, I don't want them to know that I know they're looking.

So get rid of it, you say? It's expensive, I hear, and doesn't always work. Two weeks before I got married I let it grow out, hiding inside the house the entire time, and then took a train into Perth city to try and get it waxed. That was probably one of the hardest things I've ever done, going out with it very obvious looking like that. I remember huddling up in my hoodie and avoiding eye contact with everyone on the train. The waxing people were super friendly but no matter how hard they tried the hair just would not come out of my face and they finally stopped when it started taking skin. So then I had to march my ass through town and get back on the train with a super red neck and chin with awful, thick hairs sprouting out of it. Really wanted to pass out or something. So if you check my wedding photos the skin damage is there, though Michelle, Jarrad's bestie, did photo shop some for us :P

Anyways! There is no way to really wrap up this post, except to give the awkward smile I give when explaining the furrball issue :)

Also I'm super tired of explaining my anosmia to everyone, I can't smell!

The End.

P.S: Plucking doesn't do it for me, try plucking a hair from your husband's beard and see how he reacts to it.

P.P.S: Crunchie has also found something he really really likes about the new girls.