i come from a long line of hairy women. they are BEAUTIFUL like the queen of sheba complete with mustaches and whiskers. it's funny this was not strange to me when i was a child - that when i brushed up against my grandmother her whiskers tickled me. my mother says she shaved every day with a razor. when she was dying of cancer my mother would shave her chin. one time granpa Waverly heard my grandmother ask for the razor. he laughed and said " all these years and i didn't know that hon shaved." that story always amazed me because how can a man that loves you never hold your chin as he kisses you, amazed that even when she was dying Idella still wanted to look like a woman.
as a child i remembered my mother standing by the bathroom mirror her foot balanced on the toilet - with the tweezers. if you want to make sure that you are removing all the whiskers you must grimace. to a small child it looks like a mother making faces in the mirror. i didn't recognize that grimace until i was doing it myself one day. my first hair came in eighth grade. i was apoplectic. since then i've tweezed, used depilatories, my happiest discovery is wax because it removes the hair for the longest and it leaves your skin smooth with no stubble. i briefly tried birth control because the estrogen counteracts my extra testosterone. the pill made me crazy. crazy enough to want my hair. sometimes i let my whiskers grow. i tease my brother and tell him i'm more man than he. the hair i do remove with wax i've begun to save. the doctors call my condition hirsutism. since i do not spend all of my time removing my hair i began to think of the word play of "hirsuit" which is being hairy and "hersuit" as in the collection of hair caught in wax that i've removed from my chin so that there will be no confusion that i am a her.