I Stopped Shaving, Now I’m Gay

When I stopped shaving I set off a chain reaction of choices that eventually led to my divorce and coming out to myself as gay.

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I stopped shaving my legs and underarms over a year ago. Any time I mentioned this to other women, they always asked in shocked awe, “Is your husband okay with that?” I wish I had answered with a confident, “My Body, My Rules,” but I didn’t have such confidence at the time. I simply knew I was done shaving and that my husband’s opinion on the matter did not actually matter. It was my choice and he couldn’t control that.

Of course, now I am going through a divorce, and my soon-to-be-ex-husband’s opinion matters even less.

He was fine with me not shaving, for those who are curious. He complained here and there while the stubble was pokey, but overall he didn’t make a big deal about it. It wasn’t like I regularly shaved. I hated shaving, so I shaved maybe once every two weeks, and always missed spots (thanks nearsightedness).

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When my eczema got to the point that I wanted to peel off my skin just to stop the intense burning itchiness, I said no more razors. I almost always got razor burn and never wore anything that showed my legs anyways. The decision to stop shaving felt like freedom, and it would be the first of many such freedoms.

I did not immediately go full hairy leg, that would come later. For a while I would use a trimmer to trim the hair, which was less irritating to my skin than a razor. Eventually I got tired of bothering to keep my legs smooth. My eczema was still raging strong on my shins and I just wanted to stop making it worse. So I grew out my leg hair and embraced freedom.

I asked myself why was I shaving to begin with? Who was it for? Not me, I can tell you that.

I hated shaving. Then I wondered why was it shameful for a woman to have hairy legs while men were allowed to grow their body hair wherever and however they wanted?

The answers to these questions led me on a soul searching journey.

Society wants women to look juvenile. From plastic surgery to dying away the grey women are targeted to stay looking younger for as long as possible. This runs counter my own values. I want to age with grace and beauty, accepting all facets of the aging process, wrinkles, grey hair, and all. So why the heck was I shaving my legs when I hated it? I certainly wasn’t shaving for me. I also didn’t care about looking young forever.

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I then looked into health benefits of shaving. I wanted to know if there was anything beneficial to shaving leg hair, though the fact men were allowed to have leg hair would have answered this question straight away, I wanted to be thorough. Turns out Ancient Egyptians and Greeks shaved almost all the hair on their body because it was a symbol of status to be clean shaven. Lower class had body hair and pests. Shaving supposedly rid their bodies of lice, fleas, and other pests.

Pest are not a problem for me and I don’t believe leg hair is a determining factor in beauty. I was happy with my research. If I wasn’t shaving for me, then I didn’t need to shave or even trim at all. Done.

I am now a happy hairy legged lady. I have no regrets. My skin feels healthier than ever.

I have a good moisturizer that helps with the eczema and now that I no longer shave it has calmed down. I haven’t had a bad rash or burning itch in almost a year.

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The beautiful biproduct of making the choice to stop shaving helped me realize I could make decisions that were centered on what I wanted not what society or another person wanted. This revolutionized my thinking. I started wondering what other areas of my life I was compromising for others and not myself? I started to re-center my thoughts to what I really wanted.

This would open the doors to finally accepting my sexuality, my being gay. (You can read more about that on my previous posts). It also led to realizing that I didn’t like my marriage. I didn’t like who I was with my husband. I didn’t like who he was in recent days. Our dynamic was toxic and neither of us were growing within the confines of our marriage. It was time to really think about what I wanted and take the steps to make meaningful changes. When I told my husband the things I wanted from our marriage, he said he wanted different things. Our marriage had run its course. It was time to part and grow on our own.

I am growing. Learning. And fully coming into my own.

It may seem a simple thing, not shaving, but it runs against what society thinks which is hard for me to counter. I was conditioned to consider everyone else first. To think how it would look to other people. Now I am relearning to think for myself. To ask what I think before anyone else.

It is my hope that as more people make choices for themselves and celebrate their individuality society will change. I hope others embrace their true selves and move towards living authentic, vulnerable, lives, hairy legs and all.

Blessed Be

Learn more about my coming out journey and how I broke away from rigid religiosity on my other posts:

Internalized Homophobia and Name Calling

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As I have come to terms with my own sexuality I have come to realize all the many ways I have internalized homophobia. The adults in my life, namely my parents, spoke very negatively about homosexuality. They spoke of gays and lesbians in the same with the same tone reserved for perverts and rapists. The biggest authority in my life, the church, viewed homosexuality as something to hate and hide.

When I was a kid my best friend was a boy. We played all the time. He would pretend to be Link from the video game, Zelda, and I would pretend to be a magic unicorn. It was parallel play at its finest. He did his thing, I did mine, but we were together in a world of our own.

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This friendship dissolved as we grew and the teasing began. Since I was a girl and he was boy, according to early elementary school logic we must have been in love. Boys had cooties, so did girls, and my playing with a boy went against the gender norms of the playground. The only reason a boy and girl could play together was if they were in love, and love was for grown-ups, thus should be teased mercilessly.

I can’t recall exactly why, but I remember being very mad at my friend. I think it had something to do with all the teasing. Regardless, I was angry and called him the worst thing I could think of at the time, even though I had no idea what it meant. I called him a F*gg*t.

I called him the worst thing I could think of at the time, even though I had no idea what it meant.

I had no clue why f*gg*t was bad, just that it was. My mother always said it in the same tone she used to talk about sickos who hurt children, and dangerous people. She later called Ellen DeGeneres and Rosie O’Donnell “sickos,” in this same tone.

I called my friend this horrible thing, and stormed off. In my memories he vanished after that. Really I think it was probably near the end of the school year and he just didn’t come back to the same school. It’s possible I was angry because he was moving or leaving the school and we would never see each other.

I can’t remember the exact details of that moment, just the horrible sense of regret when that word left my mouth.

I can’t remember all details of that moment, just the horrible sense of regret when that word left my mouth. To this day I wish I could apologize to this friend. I now know what that word means and how it harms those in the LGBTQ community. That word and others hurt me and kept me from facing my own truth.

As I have come to terms with my own sexuality I have come to realize all the many ways I have internalized homophobia. The adults in my life, namely my parents and those they listened to (Rush Limbaugh for one) spoke very negatively about homosexuality. They spoke of gays and lesbians like they were perverts and rapists. The biggest authority in my life, the church, viewed homosexuality as something to hate and hide.

I’m an artist, I told myself, I just want to see how to draw boobs better, nevermind the fact I own a pair myself.

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I remember scouring through gaming magazines and staring at the women. I’m an artist, I told myself, I just want to see how to draw boobs better, nevermind the fact I own a pair myself. In college I watched the movie, “But I’m a Cheerleader,” and felt personally offended. I felt everyone in the movie was pushing their ideas onto the main character. Everyone else had decided she was gay, it didn’t come from her sense of self. Of course she would be grossed out by her boyfriend French kissing her, French kissing is gross!

I identified with the main character so much I was offended on her behalf. When in truth, I was dealing with my internalized homophobia and was just like her. I was ignoring the rainbow flags in my own life that would point the way to my same-sex attraction.

I was ignoring the rainbow flags in my own life that would point the way to my same-sex attraction.

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My childhood was very sexualized. That’s the flip-side of purity culture, it creates this sexual curiosity and frustration. It centers adolescence around sex. I cannot tell you how often the church talked about sex . It was the THE thing that always came up. It also strips children of their sexual autonomy. Your body is not your own, it belongs to God, which means it belongs to the Church, or your parents.

I was taught my body belongs to something bigger. That belief kept me in a miserable marriage for so long. I continued having sex because a wife’s duty is to please her husband. A wife must make her husband happy, and sex was the way to make him happy. It was my godly duty to have children, even if I wasn’t ready for them. Then it was my duty to put those children before myself.

All of that to say, if my body was not mine, how could I really be in tuned with what I wanted?

All of that to say, if my body was not mine, how could I really be in tuned with what I wanted? When asked in bed what I wanted to do sexually, I never had a clue. Slowly I started to realize what I wanted, and it did not involve a man. Slowly I started to accept myself and unlearn my internalized homophobia. SLOWLY, like not until my mid-thirties slow.

To this day I deeply regret calling my childhood friend a F*gg*t. Even though I didn’t know the definition of that word, I knew the connotation. I said it to hurt and wound my friend. I wish I could tell him sorry. We were only seven or eight years old, but I have thought about that moment often over the last thirty-odd years. I don’t know if he understood what I said, or what it meant, I surely didn’t, but still, I wish I could apologize.

I also deeply regret using that word with the intent to harm.

Many labels and words are used to demean LGTBQ people. I am thankful that many in the LGBTQ community have reclaimed these labels. They have turned them around to bring power.

As I overcome my internalized homophobia, I have grown to like the word Queer. I like the way it sounds, the way it feels on my tongue. I like the way it means odd and different, for I have felt those words my whole life. I like it better than Lesbian or Bi or even Pan. I have tried these labels on like ill-fitting clothes. I’ve said them out-loud to myself. I also like the word Gay, even though it’s meant to label men who love men. I like the way Gay also means happy. Gay is the word I used when I fully came out to myself, my husband, and my therapist.

I have settled on calling myself Queer for now. I sometimes call myself a Lesbian. It’s a new word for me, a word that feels strange and foreign, but also like something I should reach out to and try on.

Funny how such a small word can make such a huge difference

Funny how such a small word can make such a huge difference. How it can uproot an entire family. Shake up the norm and redefine relationships. I am hopeful it will also bring joy and happiness.

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I have learned and grown since my childhood. In overcoming internalized homophobia, I have come to find words can hurt and they can heal. I am choosing to use words to heal. I am choosing to redefine my language and my labels. I am learning to accept other people’s definitions, labels, and even pronouns.

We only have one life. We get to choose how we live it. Do we live it with love and light or hide in shame and fear? I choose love and light.

Since I cannot find my old friend and say sorry to him, I will say sorry to you. If you have ever had labels and words used against you, I’m sorry. If you’ve been wounded by the societal norm, I’m sorry. There are those, like myself, who are redefining language and labels. Those who are choosing words to heal instead of harm.

I hope you find healing.

Read more:

Facing My Truth: I’m Here and I’m Queer

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I am in my late thirties, with a child, currently in a hetero-normative marriage. Until very recently I had thought I was straddling the “Bi-sexual” lines. However, after good therapy, looking inward, and facing my truth, I am now ready to say: “I’m here and I’m queer.”

If you have read some of my Confessions of a Spiritual Bully posts you may know I come from a very conservative, rigid religiosity in the Evangelical Christian Church. While the pastor preached “God is Love,” there was a strong message that that love was based on certain criteria and if you did not meet those “norms” you were damned to eternal flames.

Part of the “norms” in the Church was heterosexuality. There was no room for LGBTQ folks, and the message was clear: Homosexuality was a choice and that choice was a sin.

the message was clear: Homosexuality was a choice and that choice was a sin.

That left no room for any deviance. Marriage was considered one Man and one Woman with the intent to raise children. Anything else was sin. Sin was eternal damnation and flames. Your soul would suffer for your lustful immoral thoughts.

Sadly, this same mindset has gotten very strong in recent years. As LGBTQ rights have been fought, won, and contested. I had to block and unfriend multiple family members who used the Bible as a means to spread hate against LGBTQ folks after marriage equality passed. I tried to argue with one family member that despite their religious beliefs, the constitution was in favor of marriage equality and for separation of church and state, making their hate fueled comments unconstitutional at best. It did not go well.

Those family members now vote with their hate. They vote against equality of LGBTQ folks and BIPOC. For a religion supposedly based on love there is so much hate.

For a religion supposedly based on love there is so much hate.

I internalized this hate over the years. I stuffed my homosexual desires down deep, justifying my interests in the same sex as being appreciative of all beauty. I’m an artist, of course I love beautiful people, regardless of gender.

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I recall holding the hands of many boys and feeling nothing. However I was terrified of holding hands with my gal friends. As if somehow that act (something the other girls never seemed to have a problem with) was too intimate for me.

I was careful with hugs and physical acts of affection. A couple friendships ran deeper than others, and hurt worse than being dumped by several boys when they ended.

I can now look back and see all the broken pieces I tried to ignore. All the things that weighed me down and filled me with misery. I was denying a whole part of my identity, of my potential, for fear of other people’s opinions. I was raised to fear other people’s opinions.

My own mother told me the angels were all watching.

I knew God and his angels were always watching and ready to curse me, or damn me if I committed any sin. Sinful thoughts were enough to send me straight to Hell. I also wrote about that constant fear of death growing up.

It took a lot to get here. To admit to myself first that I was Bi, then to really settle in and face what that meant. The more I explored my “bi-sexuality” the more I felt a deep longing for a same-sex partnership. I felt a deep loneliness in my marriage that my husband could not fill. We had our difficulties, something I will discuss in later posts. But ultimately I had to face the truth, My Truth: I no longer wanted a heterosexual relationship.

When I was at my loneliest, it wasn’t my husband I wished to hold or have. It was a woman.

When I was at my loneliest, it wasn’t my husband I wished to hold or have. It was a woman. Not a specific woman. Just the abstract concept of a woman. I had to face the Truth, I wasn’t bi, I am a Lesbian.

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I recently told my husband I no longer wished to be in a heterosexual marriage. I wanted to end things and allow both of us the space to find partners who would love us unconditionally. It’s only been a month since that conversation. We haven’t even told our child. But we are working towards divorce.

I can say that while I felt intense Grief and Guilt over my truth and the loss of the hetero-normal privileges of a straight marriage. a HUGE weight has lifted off my life.

I can say that while I felt intense Grief and Guilt over my truth and the loss of the hetero-normal privileges of a straight marriage. A HUGE weight has lifted off my life. I can truly breathe. I feel Hope. There are endless possibilities ahead.

Sure there’s a whole mess to deal with in ending a marriage, especially because we have a child. But when I feel that guilt rise up, I just think of how relieved I feel to never have to have sex with a man and I KNOW this is the best path for me.

I also have a lot of internalized shame from the hateful messages against LGBTQ folks I was raised with. I hear my mother’s tone when she called Rosie O’Donnell and Ellen DeGeneres “sickos,” as if they were pedophiles or rapists. That memory lingers making me uncomfortable sharing my truth with my family. My Evangelical family will NOT be happy with my news. However, I can’t worry about them though.

I’ve spent my whole life worried about other people’s opinions of me. It’s time to focus on what my opinions are.

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I’m going to spend the next few months dating myself. I’m going to keep looking in. Keep working with my therapist. And I’m going to heal. One day I may be out and proud and loud. Today I will boast anonymously on this blog.

I just want to say that It does Get Better. I hope you find your truths, no matter how hard, and know that you are not alone.

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