The Hairy March of Menopause

Ballard of the Beard and other pluck-flucking shit

Photo of the card my dear mother bought me~she loves me

As a child, I always noticed the stiff chin hairs of my female elders.

I adored my grandmother, she was the (grand)mother-ship, the earth-(grand)mother, Nanna Lolly. The warm hug with the stabby little chin hairs was always welcome. I perhaps fleetingly wondered why I was being stabbed a little by her facial hair, and perhaps even vowed to never have it myself?!

I had no idea what was in store for me.

Genetically, my ancestors come from the UK. I have freckled skin, light coloured hair and have somehow managed to get the hairy gene. I have (pretty much) always had a soft blonde downy covering of body hair. Maybe it is to aid in the protection of my freckled skin? It was mortally embarrassing as a teen when friends noticed: “Oh my god! Look at your long toe hair!” and “Wow! Your leg hair is pretty intense!” Sigh.

I know the “less hairy.” I’m even related to some.

People with smooth-looking skin, unblemished by hair. Men who can’t grow beards (my uncle is one of these. He has smooth skin that browns in the sun, a genetic inheritance from my great-grandfather who had Spanish ancestry — I missed this completely). People without any arm hair (although I have since discovered that shaving your arms is a thing…who knew?). People with naturally hairless bodies. No chest hair. No back hair.

I have also seen people who are blessed with a thick covering of body hair. I once saw a man walking along the beach, budgie-smugglers, t-shirt. Workin’ it. Except as he got closer, I realised that it was not a t-shirt. Not a cotton one anyway. It was a t-shirt of his own making. A hair-shirt, grown himself. It was a little confronting, not having any men in my family who are quite that hairy. (It would seem that the women in my family have a greater tendency towards being hairy!)

I have also lived my whole life with a hairy mole.

Yes. It’s true! My freckled skin also has some moles. Some sprout hairs. I have one on my face. So does my mother, in the same spot. Even my sister has this little genetic quirk (thanks, Mum!). So I am no stranger to thick hairs that you have to pluck out.

But what I am really flucking over is the Hairy March of Menopause!!

Because my late forties was a continual cycle of pluck, grow, pluck, grow, pluck grow. And the soft downy facial hair I have always had gets thicker and more random!

What the flucking fluck is this hell?!

I am fairly convinced that I won’t wake up one morning with a full beard. But I’m not 100% sure. Just as soon as I pluck one out, another seems to grow, immediately.

And don’t get me started on the shock and horror when I run a hand over my neck and find a 10cm/4 inch long, fine hair! How long has THAT taken to grow? Why didn’t anyone tell me? How can I NOT NOTICE such a thing??!!

Oh, the flucking stress!!

It seems that this is something that has been happening to women since the beginning of time. My beloved grandmother, who died when I was in my twenties, was a member of this club. I felt it every time I hugged her! But she died before I cared about this hairy madness and could talk to her about it. My mother has experience. She’s not as hairy as me. But she did buy me the card (see the photo). She must love me a lot.

What I want to know is, will this hairy situation stay?

I will keep (furiously) plucking. (And to be honest, my partner does the plucking because I can’t see anymore)

Perhaps I’ll try threading? I don’t know. It seems kind of painful, pulling all the hair out with what looks like dental floss. Maybe I shouldn’t worry? Just grow it. (Except it feels hideous.)

Anyway, as part of my therapy, I came up with this:

Ballad of the Beard

I fear that now is the time for me
To acknowledge this growth creeping over me
Apparently, a normal part of menopause
(What’s next? Tail, horns and claws?!)

Initially, it was the occasional night sweat
Wake at four in the morning, hot flashes, no fret.
But what I really wasn’t quite ready for
Was the hair that’s come knocking on my door

Well, not my door, not literally
But my chin and cheeks is where the fuzz runs free!
Some days I swear it’s grown overnight
Sprouting with vigour, packed close, really tight.

And unfortunately not just my cheeks and chin
But a light fuzzy covering on my lips (it’s not thin!)
Maybe one gets what one has always feared.
A slow-growing, obviously blonde-coloured beard?

P’raps I should be grateful for the blond that it is
I guess if it was black I’d be a hair removal whizz!
Instead, I use tweezers and pluck those hairs out
Not sure ‘bearded lady’ is how I want to go about

Am I making a fuss about something that’s natural?
These stabby hard hairs that grow on the lateral?
I’m going to go gentle into the sweaty night,*
The Change is my time to let go of the fight.

(And give a whole lot less flucks!)

(*thank you Dylan Thomas, for writing the original line.)

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Thanks for reading,

I love the shit out of ya!

Lisa x

PS please leave a comment and let me know I’m not alone!

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