With this new series, my intention is to help foster and nurture an open and profound bond between father and daughter, one that transcends the awkwardness of puberty. (I wrote about it in more detail here.)

And in that spirit, I’ve agreed that once a week I will answer – honestly – any question my husband puts to me.

So, here’s what hubby has come up with for me this week…

HubbyFollowing on from last week, there’s naturally another issue regarding hair: its removal… I feel a bit weird asking about this in relation to our baby daughter, so let’s just talk about women in general. I don’t even have a specific question, so you can just tell me about it I guess. Also, though it seems weirder still to be talking about it so prematurely, when do we need to talk to our daughter about this stuff? Do we need to? It’s not mandatory after all, though I totally get that it may as well be… What are your thoughts?

MeI’m so glad you’ve asked about this. It’s something that became a massive issue for me as a teen – but not because I resembled Big Foot. Allow me to explain…

At school, there comes a time when we can’t help but begin to notice certain changes in our peers. For me, it became most notable during PE. I’m not referring to getting changed and seeing some girls developing breasts; I’m not even talking about some girls opting out of swimming lessons sbecause it was their time of the month. I speak of the arguably less-of-a-big-deal issue of body hair.

You’re probably expecting me to talk about the embarrassment of pubic hair. Nope! I’m specifically referring to leg hair! I know, I know – in the grand scheme of things, how very trivial, right? Wrong.

Those other changes were markers of becoming a woman; physical signs of our maturity commanding respect from our peers. Pathetic really, but that’s how it worked in our juvenile school hierarchy.

Anyway, there was one aspect of becoming a woman for which it was vital all evidence be immediately eliminated! In fact, the noting of it was in its prompt removal. So, as the downy fluff on our legs became thick and coarse (or maybe even before in some cases), so we started to shave our legs. This was a critical rite of passage in order to avoid becoming a pariah.

Alas, some poor souls (aka ME) were verboten by our mothers. It became a battle of wills, and in hindsight, perhaps a metaphor for the petty power struggles which followed about my body: I was not allowed to shave my legs; to dye my hair; I was not to have any facial piercings; nor to stay up past 9pm (until my late teens, when it was extended to 10pm).

There were so many things I was not allowed to do – some of which as an adult and a mother I now accept as being for my own good; others which I’m adamant I shall not repeat with our daughter. I’ve little doubt that much of what followed, including my teenage depression which came close to developing into a serious eating disorder, can be attributed to a lack of freedom with my own body. It’s true what they say about babies: the one thing you can’t control is what they swallow; and thus, if they feel a need to assert control, this is how it will manifest. That doesn’t change as you grow older.

My mother’s reason for not allowing me to shave my legs? She told me it would make the hair grow back thicker and coarser. (Not true by the way.) So, a concession was made: I was allowed to use the bad boys of the hair removal world known as hair removal mittens. Never heard of them? Can’t say I’m surprised… Suffice to say, in my experience, they were a massive pain and they didn’t really work.

Naturally, the end result was that I shaved my legs in secrecy. Sad, but true. And precisely the type of situation I want to avoid with Pixie. It’s so unnecessary, and one you’ve broken that trust once, it becomes easier to do so again. And again. I don’t want that for us and our daughter; we can all do better – we all deserve better.

So, back to the matter at hand. There are probably only two ways of removing hair which I’d recommend to our daughter: shaving, and waxing.

As always, I feel it’s our job to educate – and then allow her to make her own decision about her own body.

(Cost may be a factor, and safety is definitely relevant, ie. I’d far prefer her to use a decent quality razor which is less likely to nick.)

Do I feel we should go out of our way to encourage her to eliminate any womanly hair growth? Maybe just in particular areas? Is there a specific time we should broach this subject with her? No, no, and no. I’ve no doubts that she’ll have her own feelings about it early on if my school days are anything to go by. For the sake of her sanity, we must respect them.

The Right Time to Discuss Hair Removal

If anything, I’d suggest the conversation to have would be around the fact that porn has created certain expectations, and almost shamed women into razing (see what I did there? ?) the majority of their body hair. I’d ask her questions and encourage her to first consider her motivation; and then do whatever makes her comfortable, rather than bowing to societal pressures.

If she chooses to conform for her own reasons, no problem; I understand that need. It’s if she feels she has no choice that it becomes intolerable for me as her mother.

Like this? You can check out more of my hubby’s ponderings (and my attempts to answer them) here.

7 Comments

  1. Great post – I’m dark haired too so hair removal is a pain! I’m too much of a wuss for waxing and epilatating so I stick to shaving!

    • Kate Tunstall Reply

      I’m lucky in that respect as I’m pale with fine hair. Epilating – never! I used to wax for the summer before my daughter but I don’t have the patience or inclination now!

  2. Such a different post, I haven’t seen anyone write about this before. I started off shaving when I was a teenager as its what my mum did so she showed us but now I wax as I find it is much better

  3. woo, it seems you write this post with heart and thought, i like it, looking for your next post.

  4. I remember such feelings of shame when I grew armpit hair and wanting it gone. I was mortified. I’ll do anything to avoid that with my daughter. It makes me so sad this is even an issue. I wish we women could just be accepted with hair instead of spending so much time and money trying to look like children. Screw the patriarchy!! I’m thinking about this now, my daughter is 1 and I won’t shave in front of her but I’m thinking of taking it further and stopping altogether so she sees it’s normal. I dunno. The societal pressure is immense.

    • Kate Tunstall Reply

      That’s so sad, it’s awful that society has made a normal part of growing up something to be ashamed about. But I definitely think the way we handle it with our children can help to shape their feelings on the subject. Good luck!

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