What It's Like to Be a Really Hairy Woman As in with a beard and breast hair

What It's Like to Be a Really Hairy Woman As in with a beard and breast hair

For hirsute women, the appearance of thick, dark hair on places not usually deemed “feminine” kicks in during puberty, and it affects five to 10 percent of American females. While conditions like poly cystic ovary syndrome can cause the growth of such unruly hair, idiopathic hirsutism usually has no underlying cause, other than a higher-than-usual prevalence of androgen

Women with the condition tend to grow thick, dark hairs on their back, upper-lip, breasts, chin, chest, or tummy, and battling the fuzz as well as the stubble and ingrown hairs associated with removal may lead to frustration and insecurity. While there are treatments available, like a drug called Spironolactone, which blocks androgen receptors and reduces testosterone, or creams like Vaniqa, many are costly. In addition to cost concerns, taboos about feminine hair growth, or just sheer embarrassment, can prevent women from seeking treatment (let alone spreading their legs at a waxing salon or presenting their beard to a professional for laser hair removal).
RELATED: What It’s Like to Have a Micropenis
There are, of course, those who chose to embrace it, like 23-year-old Harnaam Kaur, who was the only woman to pose for a recent photography exhibition celebrating facial hair (she’d been growing her whiskers since she was 16), or performer and Pratt professor Jennifer Miller, a modern-day bearded lady who proudly subverts the nineteenth century “freak show” staple and used to declare in her sideshow act that “hair is a symbol of power.”

When did you first notice that you had more body hair than other girls? 
When I was about 11, I noticed my first chin hair. My sister and I laughed about it, and I shaved it off and just went about my business. Later, when I was about 15, I found myself with a freaking beard. I’ve contended with that, and excessive body hair, ever since.

RELATED: What It’s Like to Feel Lost in Your Own Home

How much facial hair are we talking?
Without any maintenance, it’s clearly a beard. The hair is thick and dark and it goes from my sideburns to my neck and my chin. The hairs around my mustache area are softer, but I’d have whiskers and I could definitely grow a goatee. I’m African-American, so my hair is naturally thick and curly, but it’s extra coarse, like a man’s.

And what about the rest of your body?
I grew hair on my chest and breasts, and my pubes and bikini line are Amazonian—there’s a lot going on down there, from a happy trail right down to my mid-thigh.

RELATED: Your Skin Might Reflect Your Psychological Health

How did you know it wasn’t the same amount of hair most other girls develop during puberty?
When I looked at the women in my family, I knew I was different. They were hairy, but not like me. In the locker room, when we were changing into leotards, I saw that other girls didn’t have noticeable hair on their “lady parts.” When I started to get interested in boys, I wanted to show off my legs, but I looked like a beast. It wasn’t sexy. I had no idea where it came from. I thought I was cursed. I was the only woman I knew who had to shave her face every day. I’d get stubble within 12 hours.

Did you tell your family?
I told my mom, who just said, “Tweeze it, the hair will go away.” I love my mom to death, but that was the worst advice. Since she was my mother, I listened and I tweezed and tweezed and tweezed praying to God that it would disappear, but it never did.

You’d pluck your entire face?
Yes. From the top of my sideburns to the bottom of my neck, and it would take about two or three hours. I’d do one side and then get tired and think, "Oh my God, this shit sucks." But then I looked completely ridiculous, so I’d have to tweeze the other side. It was hell, and I did that every four days. I was constantly thinking about it. It was a nightmare. I fixated on my beard for about 20 years.

RELATED: A Sense of Wonder Might be Good for Your Health
How did you control the rest of your body hair?
The hair on my arms and legs didn’t bother me too much. I can get away with about two days between leg shaves. But I’d lather up my nipples real good and very carefully shave everything off.  There was also some in between my breasts, but they were finer than usual and not as dark as the ones on my face.

What other sorts of hair-removal methods did you dabble in?
I don’t think there’s anything I haven’t tried. I’ve used epilator devices, creams, waxing, painful self-threading, and in-home laser removal. When I started working and earning money, I tried some “professional” laser hair removal, which was successful at getting rid of some of the hair, but I couldn’t afford to keep it up. I was stupid, and didn’t get good treatment or read the fine print. It cost me $3,000.

What It's Like to Be a Really Hairy Woman As in with a beard and breast hair

For hirsute women, the appearance of thick, dark hair on places not usually deemed “feminine” kicks in during puberty, and it affects five to 10 percent of American females. While conditions like poly cystic ovary syndrome can cause the growth of such unruly hair, idiopathic hirsutism usually has no underlying cause, other than a higher-than-usual prevalence of androgen

Women with the condition tend to grow thick, dark hairs on their back, upper-lip, breasts, chin, chest, or tummy, and battling the fuzz as well as the stubble and ingrown hairs associated with removal may lead to frustration and insecurity. While there are treatments available, like a drug called Spironolactone, which blocks androgen receptors and reduces testosterone, or creams like Vaniqa, many are costly. In addition to cost concerns, taboos about feminine hair growth, or just sheer embarrassment, can prevent women from seeking treatment (let alone spreading their legs at a waxing salon or presenting their beard to a professional for laser hair removal).
RELATED: What It’s Like to Have a Micropenis
There are, of course, those who chose to embrace it, like 23-year-old Harnaam Kaur, who was the only woman to pose for a recent photography exhibition celebrating facial hair (she’d been growing her whiskers since she was 16), or performer and Pratt professor Jennifer Miller, a modern-day bearded lady who proudly subverts the nineteenth century “freak show” staple and used to declare in her sideshow act that “hair is a symbol of power.”

When did you first notice that you had more body hair than other girls? 
When I was about 11, I noticed my first chin hair. My sister and I laughed about it, and I shaved it off and just went about my business. Later, when I was about 15, I found myself with a freaking beard. I’ve contended with that, and excessive body hair, ever since.

RELATED: What It’s Like to Feel Lost in Your Own Home

How much facial hair are we talking?
Without any maintenance, it’s clearly a beard. The hair is thick and dark and it goes from my sideburns to my neck and my chin. The hairs around my mustache area are softer, but I’d have whiskers and I could definitely grow a goatee. I’m African-American, so my hair is naturally thick and curly, but it’s extra coarse, like a man’s.

And what about the rest of your body?
I grew hair on my chest and breasts, and my pubes and bikini line are Amazonian—there’s a lot going on down there, from a happy trail right down to my mid-thigh.

RELATED: Your Skin Might Reflect Your Psychological Health

How did you know it wasn’t the same amount of hair most other girls develop during puberty?
When I looked at the women in my family, I knew I was different. They were hairy, but not like me. In the locker room, when we were changing into leotards, I saw that other girls didn’t have noticeable hair on their “lady parts.” When I started to get interested in boys, I wanted to show off my legs, but I looked like a beast. It wasn’t sexy. I had no idea where it came from. I thought I was cursed. I was the only woman I knew who had to shave her face every day. I’d get stubble within 12 hours.

Did you tell your family?
I told my mom, who just said, “Tweeze it, the hair will go away.” I love my mom to death, but that was the worst advice. Since she was my mother, I listened and I tweezed and tweezed and tweezed praying to God that it would disappear, but it never did.

You’d pluck your entire face?
Yes. From the top of my sideburns to the bottom of my neck, and it would take about two or three hours. I’d do one side and then get tired and think, "Oh my God, this shit sucks." But then I looked completely ridiculous, so I’d have to tweeze the other side. It was hell, and I did that every four days. I was constantly thinking about it. It was a nightmare. I fixated on my beard for about 20 years.

RELATED: A Sense of Wonder Might be Good for Your Health
How did you control the rest of your body hair?
The hair on my arms and legs didn’t bother me too much. I can get away with about two days between leg shaves. But I’d lather up my nipples real good and very carefully shave everything off.  There was also some in between my breasts, but they were finer than usual and not as dark as the ones on my face.

What other sorts of hair-removal methods did you dabble in?
I don’t think there’s anything I haven’t tried. I’ve used epilator devices, creams, waxing, painful self-threading, and in-home laser removal. When I started working and earning money, I tried some “professional” laser hair removal, which was successful at getting rid of some of the hair, but I couldn’t afford to keep it up. I was stupid, and didn’t get good treatment or read the fine print. It cost me $3,000.
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