If insecurities were houses men built, I owned a mansion.

I’ve never had enough hairs on my legs to shave.

It’s 9am in Ibadan and I’m hanging clothes on the line, or maybe I am more engrossed in watching the lady in my line of sight shave her legs with complete focus. I am drawn to her level of concentration and wonder how long she has been doing it for? Maybe she just started, because if not, shouldn’t the razor be familiar with the angles and curves of her legs and calves, making an easy job of the whole process. Maybe she has a boyfriend now. The novels I read growing up implied that the men required smooth-shaven women to stroke their egos.

I am 14, and my cousin pulls out a shaving stick from the bag that contained her essential toiletries. I am surprised that she has started shaving. Two days ago, my mom had berated me in her usual damning manner on why the shaving stick that rested on the window sill of our bathroom, had no business with my armpits and vulva. I ask my cousin why she is already shaving, and she says her legs are too hairy and she doesn’t like them. We are 14. I look down at my too smooth skin, with little black dots where the hairs that should have been never sprouted from. My Biology teacher called them follicles, my classmates said they looked like the skin of a plucked chicken. I do not understand the meaning of having too much hair.

I am 17, and I have learned that if you want more hair to grow on your body, you should start shaving. I bought a little pink shaving stick and went to work on my armpits, vulva, my legs and my arms all the while hoping that it was true. Two weeks, and the hairs on my body are still the same, almost non-existent. If insecurities were houses men built, I owned a mansion.

I am 18 and the girls are saying how lucky I am that I barely grow hair in my armpits and on my legs. I do not know how to feel because was it normal that it took 4 weeks for my hair to grow back after a shave? Was it normal to look at my thighs and think of boiled chicken? I muster a smile while listening to them talk about the difficulty of shaving the nook under their legs, not understanding a thing.

I am 21 and my skin is still too smooth, no hair in sight. I should be done with hanging my clothes, but I am more engrossed in watching the lady in my line of sight shave her leg with complete focus. 

The razor nicks her skin, and blood pools at the spot almost immediately. I hear her talk about how Veet would have been a better option, but the smell is something she cannot deal with and I am suddenly grateful. I wonder if this is what adulthood is. The gratitude for never having enough hairs on my legs to shave.

So What I Maybe Running From You

Artist: CosmicBagels

© Mmokutimabasi Uttah (2024)

Mmokut works as a journalist for the University of Ibadan's journalism team.

She's a Content and Creative Writer.

Other posts by Mmokut: 2:56am and Disjoint Thoughts, Our letters were goofy.

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