After knee surgery I wasn’t able to have a shower, let alone shave my legs. Six months on and there’s no going back…
Why I started shaving in the first place
I remember the first time that I shaved my legs with complete clarity. I was thirteen years old and it was a Tuesday: P.E day at school.
Out on the hockey pitch I was standing next to a classmate called Steven when, on seeing my legs in their natural state, he told me that girls with hairy legs were disgusting and that I should shave them. I reacted by running off to the other side of the pitch.
At the end of the day I went home in tears and demanded that my mum bought me a razor and shaving foam.
I knew those were the items I needed because of an article in a magazine called Mizz that said that shaving was the most economical and painless way to get rid of leg hair, and that for hairs around the nipples plucking was the best option. My mum tried to talk me out of it, but I was adamant: I did not want to be a “disgusting” girl any more.
And so began two decades of cuts, irritated skin and dark stubble on the in-between days. It makes me mad when I think of the time, money and plastic I have wasted on shaving my legs. Not to mention all of the drain clogging I must have caused with remnants of hair that grew back thicker and blacker each time.
Why I stopped shaving
In the last two years a few friends of mine have stopped shaving their leg/armpit/pubic hair and the idea of having hairy legs has become more acceptable in my social circle. I still continued to shave mine every other day however, partly out of habit and partly because I thought I ought to.
Then, about six months ago, I had major surgery on my knee and for several weeks I couldn’t shower, stand up on my own, dress myself, or go to the toilet unaccompanied. Shaving my legs (or armpits, or pubic hair) was the last thing on my mind.
What I realised
There were several sessions with my physiotherapist where I felt mortified at the sight of the fuzzy stubble on my legs and I had to constantly remind myself that he was a professional who only cared about the state of my knee, not the look of it.
Eventually, I got over the embarrassment and stopped cringing when his massages left the hair looking like a collection of spiders crawling up my shins.
It didn’t take long for the initial stubbly stage to turn into soft, dark black hairs. After a few days I realised that I liked the way that they looked and felt, despite the hair on my right leg being darker than on my left and both calves being totally bald at the back.
My boyfriend was not so keen on the look and described the hairs as “masculine” when I asked him what he thought about them. Now though he is used to them and he respects the fact that it is my body and my decision.
A furry future
I had surgery in the autumn and wore shorts for the entire process of rehabilitation. Now I am back at work and I have to admit that I am relieved that it is winter so no one can see the hairy legs underneath my trousers.
Whilst I may be comfortable going to the gym or to the clinic to show off my furry pins, I feel that my workplace is the last hurdle that I haven’t yet overcome. Is having hairy legs on show considered a professional look? Would it be akin to going to work in trainers?
I work in an educational setting where the dress code states nothing about facial or body hair and I’m sure that my colleagues wouldn’t care, but the students might make comments.
Should I try to survive the summer months only wearing long, floaty trousers and skirts so that they don’t see my legs? If not, do I ignore or shut down their comments? Do I take it as an opportunity to teach them that women don’t always have to follow the beauty code that society dictates for them if they don’t want to?
I have until the summer to decide. Whichever tactic I take though, one thing is sure: I’m done with shaving for good.
