As much as I love make up, things that smell delicious, and taking care of myself, I’m not the kind of girl that goes to a Beauty Therapist.
My kind of luxuries are chocolate so dark the bitterness grates on your tongue for hours, a pair of qualities leggings that can withstand km after km of one foot in front of the other without falling to pieces, alone time spent with my tiny sweetheart just talking, and roadtrips that begin on our doorstop and end thousands of kms later back where we started. A really delicate fountain pen that writes like an extension of my hand, a featherdown duvet wrapped around us as we star gaze on the little pink trampoline, or a cup of tea made for me by someone special. That is my kind of luxury.
I finally saw a very beautiful Beauty Therapist today.
Actually this is the second time in a week I have been lucky enough to be tended to by her. A few days ago Jade from Jade’s Beauty Room kindly tinted my eyelashes for free. My little babe happily chatted and played with a pile of toys the size of a small mountain, while Jade worked her magic on my eyelashes. It gave me time to feel comfortable enough to finally ask someone to help me. Believe me when I say it was close to one of the hardest things I have ever done.
I have written many times about my struggles with fertility and health due to having Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome and Endometriosis. I have spoken about the pain, discomfort, and health complications that I endure daily due to this. I have no issues with talking about it. The crazy bitch hormones, the pain so intense that I bury myself in a hot shower and cry for a while, the periods relatively similar to scenes from Texas Chainsaw Massacre. There are no limits for me on this topic.
Except one. This one. Facial hair.
Today, after a massive internal struggle, I finally booked a full face threading. This may sound like I’m making it such a bigger deal than it is, but it is the one thing about my condition that has honestly and truly humiliated me over the years. The crazy concoction of hormones makes me sprout facial hair in places that no woman should ever have to deal with. I own 4 pairs of tweezers; one for the lounge, one for the bathroom, one in my purse, and one in the car just in case. I spend at least 30mins every day removing unwanted and unsightly hairs from my face. Dark, coarse, horrible little hairs that refuse to piss off and leave me alone. And it has been a struggle my entire life. I have dealt with it every day and hated it, but been too ashamed to ask anyone to help me.
Then we met Jade. And she reassured me that I wasn’t gross, and that it is so common, and there was absolutely no need for me to be so embarrassed. She went about her threading and her plucking and what not, all while chatting casually about life, and dogs, and children. Just the usual conversations. The nerves completely faded, and when I stepped out of her studio half an hour later, I barely managed to make it to the car before I burst into the happiest tears I have on record.
Such a simple procedure has had the most amazing effect on my soul! I have always been a confident woman. I’m smart, I’m clean, I can cook, I’m a brilliant mother, when I brush my hair it’s quite shiny, I look adorable in pencil skirts, and I can hold down conversations with grown ups. I know who I am and what I have to offer, and I will look you in the eye and give you a firm handshake when we meet. But this has plagued me! It is always the thing that I think everyone is staring at, always the thing I assume most people will remember most about me, and however much I smile, it is always on my mind.
Not any more. The days spent in front of a mirror plucking brazen hair after hair are over for me. The time wasted on my silent suffering are over. The fear of speaking about it has gone.
I was just too afraid to ask for help because of how I felt about it, and how it made me feel.
I wish I had have been braver all of those years ago.