The Beginings Of My Blog For Women Suffering From Hirsutism

What I am hoping for is a beginning to a regularly updated blog about my journey to find confidence as a woman living with hirsutism. I will begin my blog with a short story.

It all began in eighth grade. At the time, I thought all I had to worry about was removing the hair on my upper lip. It was a new kid that everyone particularly liked who said, “Hey, I heard you had a beard!?” That was all it took, my world was shattered. I played it cool and proceeded to the girls bathroom. I remember that day and all I wanted to do was go home and never return. What my mother and I didn’t realize is that it wasn’t a problem with a simple solution, from that point on, it only got worse. To this day, I still pair that kid with the worst day of my life. It has been a long journey from the age of 13, and not an easy one.

I battled hirsutism all the way through school, I got to the point that I could not even look at people who spoke to me because I thought they were staring at the flaws I somehow inherited from a beautiful mother. I envied every girl and hated some and cursed every possible deity for gracing me with such an issue.

Somehow, since then, I have been able to pull myself together and realize my beauty and self- worth. I won’t lie, it is still hard a lot of the time, I still feel that I am criticized and judged by many. I cry some mornings when I look in the mirror, just from the amount of hair that can grow overnight. What I have come to realize over the years is, there is more to life than vanity. Beauty is temporary and I was wasting my time focusing on the bad and not seeing the good. Those mornings when I feel down, I try to look at the rest of my face and name three beautiful physical features. I then ask myself to name six beautiful non physical attributes of myself because what is inside is twice as important than the outside.
hairymary hairymary
18-21, F
2 Responses Nov 29, 2012

I cannot tell you how similar my story is to your story. I have a full beard, hair on my chest and stomach. When I was 13 the most popular boy in school saw my face in class and screamed "She has a ******* beard!" I did not know what to do. I was so shy and silent. I went home that day and cried my eyes out. I started using my dad's electric shaver at 5am every morning, but was afraid my parents would find out so I would hide and use it in the garage. I was a miserable mess. Finally I was able to buy razors to shave my face, but I told my parents I was shaving my legs with them. It has been a hard hard life. I wear 3 la<x>yers of makeup and 3 la<x>yers on my chest when I shave it and have to wear lower cut tops. We are mutants, and we should be why is it so hard?