for about 90 days I took on the gumption of letting my facial hair grow. at the end of that time period, i was clearly a very bearded and mustached lady. the beard reached an inch in length. mostly white. some threads of black and brown. it was pretty damn impressive.
i was on that courageous journey on my own. i say that because there is really noone in my life that has my back. not 100%. sure i have friends, patient, kind and loyal near me, and here virtually and I love all of you so much, but i don’t have someone full out in the trenches. when a person strikes an admirable and brave stance all sorts of things happen. i wrote about this earlier – if i said hey i am taking on this experiment, folks had immediate opinions. most not supportive. if i said nothing, and appeared as i was – people were polite, they said nothing. interesting don’t you think?
no matter where I was the feeling of people really really looking at me intensified. it may surprise you, but i am fairly introverted. there are times when i prefer to blend in with a crowd. as a woman with defined facial hair – that was impossible. I found after awhile I felt beaten with the stares of others. and in times of stress – especially as they occurred this recent month of march …I wanted to go fetal. that last sentence says it all – that is what it felt like. it’s a shame that a person of any difference – super tall, short, fat, of color, or not of…has to feel an attention upon themselves that questions their confidence. or mortifies them, but this is a truth not only for me – but for so many in our society. I tackled this before when I let the hair on my legs, and armpits grow. i was at a very different place in my life. stronger emotionally perhaps? i felt triumphant about it, I have never felt the compulsion to shave it.
i liked the hair on my face. i liked the way it felt. a lot. i loved loved loved not shaving. i loved how it looked – sortof, that being different look, in reality i am prettier without it and thats just my take on it. i don’t think i would feel the need for pretty if someone was in my day to day adoring me accordingly. and i feel bad that i had not a single opportunity to have the feeling of being kissed with hair on my face. no one approached my publicaly and said – i love what you are doing. if that had happened – what a difference it would have made.
when i had to ask for help and call the sheriff. i felt the hair on my face would be judged, considering the entirety of the circumstance, I decided that being without it was in my best interest. it was a really good call on my part. since. I have not felt the desire to grow it again. partly because the stress in my life hasn’t lightened up.
my alone in it all feels less alone shaved. i don’t know how else to explain it.
i do want to thank the emphatic encouragement and affection from the few of you here. you know who you are. if you were championing me in person, in my day to day life my world would be a different one. it isn’t.
the other detail that struck me along this experiment was how identifying my facial hair was. in the spirit of my anonymousness ( ha – love that word! ) I am not ready to be that defined virtually. Perhaps I am fooling myself that I am here incognito at all. bearded ladies are rather famous. this one takes way more than just courage