My 'gorilla legs' exposed me!

I have gorilla legs. That's what I'm calling them now. They're kind of like a circus act; people are curious and want to see what five weeks worth of hair on a woman's legs looks like. It's not pretty -- irregular growth patterns, untamed DARK hairs going in every direction.


This week, I haven't been hiding them. Springfield, Illinois broke record temperatures three days this week. A girl's got to be comfortable, right? Well, that's easier to convince yourself of when you're inside picking out clothes. Once I got outside, I found I was second-guessing my decisions as rash and impulsive.


On Wednesday morning, I went out for my first bike ride of the season -- wearing capri-length workout pants. I wasn't out of my subdivision when I could feel the hairs on my legs flapping against my skin like little flags. Lots and lots of little flags. Surreal. It was impossible to ignore the sensation.


I quickly realized my back tire was nearly flat, so I headed to the local Casey's to put some air in it. The reality that people might see my hairy legs temporarily froze me. But darn it, my tire was very low so I didn't have much choice in the matter. I breathed a sigh of relief when I pulled in and there wasn't a single car there -- not one. Praise God!



In the three and a half minutes it took for me to fill my tires, I'm not kidding -- five cars pulled in and most of the passengers of those cars had to walk by me to go inside. I didn't look up. Like a kid ashamed of committing an act he knew was wrong, I hung my head low, chin tucked into my chest. You know, lest I see someone I recognize who doesn't know WHY I'm not shaving and simply wouldn't "get" it.


I've discovered it's really easy to talk about my hairy legs and my "experiment" and my support of Molly Barker's Naked Face Project -- to my close friends and on my blog. Yet, I still have a fear of what others will think if they SEE my hairy legs (or armpits) and don't know the explanation behind it. What I perhaps fear even more is that I care about what people I know or even don't know think about me.


When did that happen? When did I care so much about what anyone thinks of me? Why would it possibly matter so much if someone caught a glimpse of hair peeking out of my armpit? And yet...I can't deny it, it totally matters.


Which leads to me some questions. Who told me this matters so much? And when and why did I decide that was OK? Is this a conscience decision or something inherent in our cultural norms? Are we teaching our girls, or children even, that what people think about them is a critical input value for how they are to behave and make choices? Is this why boys find it difficult to cry in public? Is this why nobody stands up for the kid being picked on? Who makes up these societal rules? And why do we so readily agree to them? Most importantly, what kind of world is it creating for our children?


After my bike ride and shower (which is so much faster these days with no shaving involved!), I had to ready myself for a professional luncheon. I chose a pair of dressy capris and flats, with about four inches of the bottom of my very hairy leg exposed. After my freak-out session at the gas station, I'm not sure why I made this selection.


Because as I walked into the members-only club for lunch, a nervous lump formed in my throat. I felt very regretful and nervous that a professional woman with whom I'm trying to network would notice. I was shocked at how much this bothered me! I was angry with myself for caring so much, even as I tried to suppress my emotions. I think I was so upset because I KNEW that my hairy legs could absolutely offend someone and negatively affect an opportunity for me.


So what happened? I quickly sat at a chair to cover myself and after lunch, I left without speaking to anyone. My hairy legs had that much control over me. Sadly, being different was a struggle for me. I'm so embarrassed to admit that!


Because it really goes against what I believe...that we're all different....and what I tell girls....that it's good to be unique, that we must stand on our principles and be firm in our morals, which aren't always popular and more often than not go against what society says on the matter.


My hairy legs are offering the gift of clarity. Now I see, I understand why teenage girls struggle with the emotions and challenges -- it's easier, better to fit in. It causes less turmoil to just cave in and be like everyone else. Succumbing to peer pressure is often the path of least resistance. Most of us (me, too) don't want resistance or confrontation. We've been trained that those are "bad" things.


None of this changes when we go from little girl to grown-up girl. It seems there are still groups or cliques of women who dictate what's cool, what's acceptable, what's the norm -- often derived from media. But we can change it; there is no absolute. That's the kind of power that comes from things like the Bible, prayer and even the Girls on the Run program.


I always tell my daughter that so many successful people were and are ADHD, that it makes her brain special. Creative types who aren't afraid to take risks, they often find success. But these aren't the stories we see or hear. They're there, to be sure, but they're drowned out by the slick advertising and marketing featuring waif-like women and Photoshopped perfection. Those societal messages are so loud; it's so hard to push aside the clutter. And it's exhausting, because it's a daily task. So we must constantly clean out the filth, the lies and the destructive nature of our habits, and emphasize the reward for being true to oneself.


As much as I want this to be Molly Barker's problem or Hillary Clinton's or the school principal's, the reality is it starts with me. It starts with holding my head high even as my pants get shorter are my leg hair grows longer. I don't think this experiment is over for me until I can find a place where I'm comfortable with hairy legs, when I can expose them without feeling the need to defend them. That's the place of growth for me. That's when I'll be confident that I'm ready to take REAL risks and talk about them. I'll know -- truly know -- how to walk out of my comfort zone and meet success.