Why I Don’t Always Shave and Why That’s More Than Okay.

Sometimes I leave it a few days. Sometimes I leave it a few weeks. Sometimes it’s even longer than that. And honestly? That’s exactly why you shouldn’t feel pressured to constantly keep up with shaving either.

I’ve always been like this, I think. Some might call it laziness and sure, sometimes it is. But it goes deeper than just not bothering. There’s something about the way women are conditioned to view our body hair that’s honestly exhausting. I used to think I had to constantly be hairless to be attractive or even just acceptable. Like I couldn’t be seen really fucking seen unless I’d ticked all the grooming boxes.

In my first serious relationship, I used to shave obsessively. Every couple of days. No matter how tired I was. No matter if anyone was going to see or not. I couldn’t bear the idea of stubble, let alone full-grown hair. I’d make sure I was never fully visible in the light, like I was hiding something shameful. Looking back, it feels ridiculous, but at the time it was so real. I felt like an ogre—like Fiona before her Shrek glow-up kind of vibe. Body hair, to me, was something monstrous, something unlovable. Something to eliminate, hide, and be embarrassed about.

But as I’ve gotten older, something shifted. Maybe it’s confidence, maybe it’s wisdom, or maybe I just got tired of holding myself to unrealistic expectations. I started to see my body hair not as something ugly, but as something natural. Something mine. And sometimes—even if this sounds wild to some—I find it beautiful. Sensual, even. Body hair can be soft, it can be sexy, and it can absolutely be empowering.

That doesn’t mean I’ve given up shaving entirely. I still love the feeling of smooth legs, fresh sheets after a clean shave, the scent of moisturiser sinking into bare skin. I still get that buzz of confidence when I’ve taken the time to “pamper” myself. But I’m not scared of the in-between anymore. If my armpits are hairy? So what. If my legs are stubbly or even fully grown out? That’s okay too. I’m done with punishing myself over something so small, so natural, and yet so policed.

You can call it laziness if you want. You can call it a feminist revolution. For me, it’s about reclaiming something I was taught to be ashamed of for so long. It’s about choosing for myself. It’s about letting my body just be sometimes, without apology.

I’m not here to tell you to stop shaving. I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to. You get to choose. That’s the power. If it makes you feel good, do it. If it doesn’t, skip it. You’re not less feminine, less worthy, or less attractive because you have body hair. You’re just human.

Ignore the noise. Ignore the ads, the razor commercials, the airbrushed magazine legs, the filtered influencers. None of that is real. What’s real is you—whether you’re freshly shaved, stubbly, or gloriously fuzzy.

So yeah, this is your reminder: as you are, right now, is more than enough. You are allowed to challenge the standards you were raised with. You are allowed to change your mind. You are allowed to be soft in every way.

Let your body be yours again.