Thursday, December 19, 2013

Monkey Arms

Happy Last Throwback Thursday!

I have enjoyed sharing some points from my past that have helped shape who I am today. I hope you have enjoyed reading!

I feel like, writing as a woman, body image issues have to be addressed. I decided to be really brave and share what I am most self-conscious about.

My arm hair. (Please note: This picture does not do it justice! There is so much!)

My parents both plenty of arm hair so I am doubly "blessed" and have even more than both of them! It really started showing around my middle school years - perfect timing right? In the 7th and 8th grade, a group of boys started calling me "Monkey Arms" and as us girls waited in the lunch line (they separated each grade into two lunch sessions - boys and girls) they would point, laugh, and comment. Around that same time, those boys saw a movie called "Congo" which features an ape named "Amy." Oh the irony...

I took to wearing long sleeves. I once shaved my arms and quickly realized I didn't want to have to do that every day for the rest of my life so I went back to the hairiness.

In high school, I became somewhat more okay with my hairy arms but I still did my best to hide them under long sleeves and especially in pictures. Then, around junior year, my Mama found this amazing Avon product that bleaches dark hair without turning it orange! It was a huge turning point, we invested in many bottles of it, and I finally felt like I didn't have to worry.


As I led a tour of future students and their parents, I asked if there were any questions or comments. One parent raised his hand. "Yes?" I said. He replied, "Dang girl! You have the hairiest arms I have ever seen!"

Yes. A parent said that!


By college I stopped caring and quite honestly with the exception of wedding pictures and holding Annabeth pictures I have forgotten to hide them. Then...

Last fall, my best friend and I went to a new nail salon to treat ourselves to pedicures and manicures. All was going well until the manicure, I rolled up my sleeves, the manicurist began the process. Then she giggled. A tiny, little giggle. I immediately thought of my arm hair. Then I thought, "No. Amy. Stop. It's not about that." More tittering, giggling. Finally, in a Cambodian accent, "Oh. You have hair like monkey." Fits of laughter.

So...there you have it...I am most self-conscious about my arm hair. My monkey arm hair to be exact. But, in the end, Mark says he doesn't mind it and Annabeth loves to brush it so I guess it's okay with me :)

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