Fat, Happy, and Hairy, Part II

Here is Part 2:

The other big thing, lookswise, is something I alluded to before, but haven’t quite figured out how to talk about, because I am still working out my own thoughts/feelings on the subject, and I am curious to hear yours – please share!  This topic, my friends, is hair and shaving.

A little over a year ago, I stopped shaving regularly.  I had started to bleed when I shaved, no matter how long I waited in between shavings, about a year before that, and one day I looked down and my entire leg was dripping with blood.  I counted 18 spots where I had cut myself on the front of just one leg, and I decided that that much blood was not worth the “beauty” of shaving.  So I started going a couple of months in between shaving, and that helped, but I was still bleeding occasionally.

At one point, I noticed a friend of mine staring at my legs, and I sort of sheepishly explained why I wasn’t shaving.  And she said something like, “Oh, I thought that maybe it was just true that lesbians don’t shave.  Like, oh, look, I’m a lesbian and now I don’t shave anymore!”  I was quick to assure her that it had nothing to do with being a lesbian and it had everything to do with the amount of bleeding I was willing to do for my culture’s definition of beauty.

[Disclaimer: I’m sort of working through my thoughts here, so sorry for the lack of organization.  Chime in! Thanks.]

But sometimes I think that being a lesbian gives me more opportunity to say “fuck it” to the standards.  I think this can be true in a variety of contexts, including the amount of hair on my body, the clothes I decide to wear (dress vs. men’s clothes, chacos vs. heels… I hate heels!), or the kind of wedding I have.  There are sort of set expectations when you are a straight woman: this is what a straight woman does, this is what she looks like, this is who she marries, this is how she acts – and I suspect that sometimes it is harder to buck those expectations than it is as a lesbian.  One of the cool things is that we get to decide what a lesbian (by which I mean, me, the lesbian) looks like, what I do, who I marry… I’ve already bucked tradition, here I go making my own path! Interestingly, for some people, what I do might define “what a lesbian does” if I am the only lesbian they know.

So back to the hair.  Shortly after that conversation, I shaved again, because I didn’t want to be “one of those lesbians” – I wanted to do my own thing.  But either way, I’m stuck doing someone else’s thing: I’m a woman fulfilling cultural expectations by shaving, or I’m a big ol’ stereotypical dyke by not shaving.  A couple of months ago, I said, “screw it, I’ll just do what I want to do,” and I stopped shaving.

And whoa did my legs get hairy.  I compared them last week to my sister’s boyfriend’s legs.  They were just as hairy as his.  Hey ladies!  Women’s legs can be just as hairy as men’s!  I had no idea!  There was something kind of cool about it.  You think you can grow hair?! I can grow hair!

But yesterday, I decided I was done.  I put on a pretty dress and I noticed my legs more than I noticed the dress.  So I shaved them.  And for now, I love that.  I love my smooth legs and the complete lack of hair.  It’s a nice change.  But I have no idea what I’ll be doing in a month or in two months or on my wedding day.

We went to a wedding last summer and the bride was dancing and she lifted her arms and she had not shaved.  And while I don’t know what I want for my armpits or how comfortable I personally would be with not shaving (i’m getting there! if you couldn’t tell…), it was so empowering to see her in her dress, having the most wonderful time at her wedding being herself. There was something strong and magical about it.

Yeah, so call me a crunchy lesbian, and then tell me what you think.  And tell me for serious, but be gentle too, okay?  Okay.  Thanks.

Fat, Happy, and Hairy, Part I

It’s Monday afternoon; this morning it was raining, then this afternoon sunny, then drizzly, and then suddenly! There was a storm! Black skies, crazy wind, the trees were dancing… it poured rain and then – then! – it stopped.  And now it’s sunny and a little bit breezy and I am sitting in the sun on my deck drinking wine mixed with seltzer (ie wine for lightweights who can’t even drink one glass of wine without feeling it… thanks, Mom!). Yum.

So here’s what I need to talk about today, in two parts because one part is way too long to expect anyone to actually read: my body.  And, I guess, bodies in general.  It seems that this is a pretty standard post for any wedding blog, and why shouldn’t it be?  Facebook, every wedding magazine ever, and pretty much our entire culture have spent a good chunk of time and screenspace telling me that I need to lose weight for my wedding.  I need to get in shape and tone my arms and go on a diet blah blah blah blah.  Thanks, Universe, for the self-confidence boost.

I have been determined not to get in shape “for my wedding.”  If I’m going to do it, I’ll do it for some other reason, and on my own timeline.  I do not want to be someone who is changing things “for my wedding.”

my fat face that obviously needs to slim down, duh.

But, ahem, the thing I hear is that being happy and in love = a bit of weight gain.  I say, “I’m fat and happy!” and the world has to deal with it.  Except that my pants don’t fit anymore.  And I finally decided that I wasn’t comfortable living in just my pajamas and boxer shorts.  I spent a good amount of time denying that I was gaining much weight because I could – again, see: my wearing scrubs to work every day.  So I just bought two new pairs of pants, and I am comfortable again.  But I am also determined to be better.

Better does not mean thinner.  I mean, it might mean thinner, but more than that it means conscientious. It means actually exercising with some regularity, and keeping in mind what I eat.

And – whoa! – it’s not that hard!  I started writing down what I eat, not to diet, but because I am much happier writing down “grapes” than I am writing “half a bag of hershey’s kisses.”  And I started training for a big bicycle ride – I’m shooting for 100 miles in one day, a ride I’ll make in ten weeks with my dad.  I admit that I haven’t been riding every day, but I’ve only missed one or two.  And already I’m feeling better, and I think I’m looking better – but the feeling is the lens I’m looking through for the looking, so we’ll just give me a big gold star!

Make with the happy! or, Embarassing Hair Pictures

So sometimes life gets in the way and I can’t write nice things about my life or our wedding.

Tonight, lucky you, is not one of those times.

Tonight, I would like to talk about hair.  Unfortunately, I do not have as many pictures as I would like to show you my many fabulous hair experiences, but I will do what I can.

In the internet wedding blogging world, everyone talks about hair.  They show their hair up and down and in a pony tail.  Here are three pictures of me with my hair up, down, and, um, swept to the side?

Uh, spunky, right?

Pageboy much?

current hair, swept to the side (plus pretty ring!)

So that is my current hair. In fact, I took those pictures, goofy face and all, just now, just for you. You’re welcome.  For everyone’s entertainment, though, I thought I would post some pictures of my hair over the years – not chronologically, but from shortest to longest.  Comments and laughter welcomed.

This was at a folk festival, the first time I shaved my head.  I LOVED this, though I don’t think my parents would for my wedding, and I do factor in their thoughts on some things.  I think hair is something not worth fighting over.

Short and simple.

On my first road trip with Fancee (whom I’ll be referring to as Turtle from here on because she insists she needs a nickname (she calls me Bird), and in a fit of belligerent silliness, I agreed that she did and that she is hard on the outside and soft on the inside, and probably tastes good in soup, so she’ll be turtle.  I’m not really sure where that all came from.  Plus I like to think that if I knocked her on her back, she’d have a hard time getting up.).

The fauxhawk meets swoop hair.

Derby event with my derby wife, Estrogeena Davis. Face cut out to protect the innocent 🙂  There was a sign on my arm that said “I’ll hit you for a dollar,” and I’m pretty sure I made a couple bucks that night.

Fauxhawk hair!

Our first date! Derby prom 08.  She’s so pretty 🙂 It was her first prom ever! I think we went home at 9, and talked about getting married after a beer or two. Or just one. Okay, it was half a beer.

Fauxhawk take two, with my little brother in the background. Post-derby photo shoot.

The bob. Simple and sweet.

This was in college, presenting a study I had done.

The bob, again.  Earlier in college. Like? Don’t like? Tell me your thoughts. i think I could get here by September if I wanted to…

Looong hair. This was just before I cut off 11 inches to get that cute bob up there.  The 11 inches are all packaged up nicely for Locks for Love and are still in my apartment somewhere.  Don’t tell Turtle.

Scowl! Long hair is hard!

So I’m not thinking anything super fancy for our wedding, but I want to be able to do something, so I’m growing it out now.  Not sure I love my long hair, but I am interested in hearing your thoughts.

Also, re: wedding hair, I love the idea of a delicate headband or something with leaves on it, if I can make it feel like me… what a strange thing, that some things look good but still dont’ feel authentic, and that hair can be one of those.