Monday, 24 November 2014

Beating myself up over shaving

I'm afraid I'm still not done with my post on Japanese bondage, but it's coming along nicely! So, instead, let me invite you to do a bit of navel-gazing with me today. Gazing at my navel, not yours, I mean. And not really my navel either, but another part of my body. HA! Which part am I talking about? I hate to break it to you, but it's my armpits again. Because there have been some new developments on that front.

Years back, when I first discovered feminism, one of the first steps to becoming more free, as I saw it, was to free myself from a number of expectations relating to my body. Hence the various blog posts on women and body image. It was important to me to feel that I could stop shaving my armpits and stop plucking my eyebrows because men aren't expected to do either of those things. And when I stopped looking at other women as competitors, and instead saw them as potential love interests, I realised that I actually think that armpit hair, wild eyebrows and even a hint of a moustache in women can be f***ing hot.

So for a while, I had two mantras
1. would a man be expected to do this? No? Then I can stop doing it.
2. do I find this attractive in other women? Yes? Then I can do it too.

For me, this process started years and years ago. I've become a mother since, and that raised all sorts of body issues. As a pregnant woman and young mother, you're supposed to stay attractive, be a "yummy mummy" like all those stars in magazines flaunting their bumps and raving about just how beautiful they feel. But why is it that the main purpose of women is to be beautiful? Why aren't they seen primarily for what they say, or think, or do? Why is their body so important?

Anyway, while I don't buy into the whole yummy mummy thing, after pregnancy and breastfeeding, I felt the need to reclaim my body, which had mainly been a vessel and feeding machine for Momo. And, funnily enough, the way I found for reclaiming it is: to go dancing again three nights a week. And to dress up for that. To wear make-up, to wear dresses, and then last week I even.... waiiiit for it..... I EVEN


Because I don't have to have bloody armpit hair just because I'm a bloody feminist. Or maybe, I couldn't take the stares anymore and it was just easier to conform. So, rather than reclaiming my body, I've let others claim it. Shit.
Anyway, now that I've shared this piece of earth-shattering news, let me just wish you all a lovely week, and I can't wait to wrap up (pun!!!) that bondage piece for you for next Monday! Cheerio!


PS Is it bad that I feel like a total noob because I cut my nose while posing for this picture?

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