I have a strange and mixed history with body hair when I was an adolescent; however, when I was nineteen, in my philosophical denial of the body, I ceased shaving and I had tried shaving again a few times, but the thought of removing the hair made me sad. It wanted to be there. It grew for a reason. "Look, look, its starting to crawl!" (Sylvia Plath). This is what my body naturally wants me to do and, believing in my body again as feminism requires, I do not see the point in denying what comes natural to my body. Also, I do not like changing my body, modifying it in anyway. This fear has only gotten worse over time. I hate haircuts and I hate the idea of shaving. Some autistics prefer to constantly change their bodies; however, I prefer to keep my body as it is...
I am not very hairy at all. I have a decent bush and I have brownish-reddish-blondeish color hair-- nobody really knows the exact color (the same phenomenon occurs with my eyes-- greenish--grayish--bluish)-- so my leg hair is not very noticeable. However, I think my armpit hair is my favorite.
It is how the body wants to be and in order to reclaim one's body, one must accept the body for what it is-- not the recreation of it... Remaking the female body is the denial of the female body; it only further makes us believe that our bodies are disgusting, that hair is temptation, that we are slithering Eves who must remove parts of ourselves, must repent, must remold the clay to be acceptable. We should love our bodies as they are...
_________________
"All by myself I am a huge camellia
glowing and coming and going, flush on flush."
-Sylvia Plath, Fever 103