Body Hair on the Big Day

 (Apologies for such a long break! I've been swept up with uni work and work work over the past few months, but now I'm back with plenty of time on my hands :) )

 Now those of you who know me will probably know that I don't shave under my arms - while I fully support a woman's right to do so I feel that it's part of my expression of feminism and of myself to choose not to. For those who don't know me, surprise! I'm a hairy lady. When friends and family found out we were engaged the first question from many of them wasn't about dates, venues or dresses but this:

"Will you shave your armpits for the wedding?"

 In short, no. Many were pleased with my decision and know that having hairy pits is just a part of who I am. But it really got me thinking. 100 years ago you wouldn't see brides shaving their underarms, and frankly nobody would see it, because it wasn't the social norm. But as these norms have changed and the market for epilation has grown female body hair (and male to a lesser extent) is becoming a thing of the past. Being a hairy woman in this type of society give you a glimpse into something you wouldn't otherwise see and it's brought me a lot of mixed feedback.

 About two years ago I was waiting for the bus after an exam at college. It was a hot day so I was wearing a short, strappy dress and when I put my arm out for the bus I thought nothing of it. However a passing cyclists clearly thought something of it. In fact he got such a shock he fell of his bike. I tried to think nothing of it, laugh it off, but it got to me how shocking a little bit of hair could be. And it wasn't like the bloke had never seen body hair before, his legs were like carpets; probably just never on a woman. It's by no means the only incident but one that really stands out in my memory.         

The pits in action!

                       

 This is probably one of my favourite pictures from our engagement party. While it was a fantastic night, we had a wonderful time surrounded by friends and family, it was stressful to organise. Things like food, music, booking the venue, it was a lot to do. The dress itself too needed altering - I didn't have enough in the boob department to keep it up so my grandma very kindly did the alteration for me so it fit perfectly, and I felt absolutely stunning wearing it. Grandma also brought up the pits question with me, saying it was such a beautiful dress that it would be a shame to...distract from it. Thinking about it now I would probably have never found time to do it! I was still putting my makeup on when my dad had to practically drag me out of the house so I wouldn't be late for my own do. Between cooking and giving directions I wouldn't have had the time.

 I don't think I would have felt like myself either, it's a big part of my identity now and something I feel I can be creative with. 

Image courtesy of Gareth Smith - Blind Sided Creations

 This was from the last burlesque show I performed in, organised by the wonderful House of Trixie Blue. I'd been promising/threatening to dye my underarm hair blue for the next show we did in honour of our troupe's name, The Blue Belles, and as you can see I was deadly serious about it! Little things like that just made me feel fantastic. I've dyed them all sorts of colours (and will be posting a tutorial at some point!) and it brings me great amounts of joy that's it's considered so unusual. As things stand I haven't actually shaved my legs since the last show, not for any profound political reason like my pits, but I've lost my razor and know as soon as I get a new one it'll turn up. It was something that bothered me for a while but now I find it quite beautiful, I've grown very fond of the fuzz.

 If anything, I just want to be comfortable on my own wedding day. I know that if I did shave I wouldn't feel like me. I'd be conscious of it all day, uncomfortable and itching, and waiting for the stubble to put in an appearance. They're nothing wrong or un-"feminine" about not shaving, just as there's nothing anti-feminist about choosing to shave, I just feel for myself it would be the wrong choice.

 Hairy brides to be, I salute you!

Petition: Mothers' names should be on marriage certificates alongside fathers.

Hello lovely readers!

  Wow it's been a while, I do apologies. I've had three weeks of essays and exams and it has honestly been the longest three weeks of my life. I've had time for nothing else between uni work and work, at one point I thought sleep was the only tangible think I was able to cut out. Needless to say I celebrated finishing my first year by having a nap... At work I'm on an "Up to 45 hours contract" - which is essentially a fancy word for a zero-hours contract, where I'm guaranteed anywhere between zero and 45 hours. Luckily my hours are more or less fixed, but it's still very tiring. Heavy lifting, long hours, running around like a blue-arsed fly. Still! Now I've got plenty of free time for feministing and seeing friends, I feel like I've rejoined the human race!

 Anyway, a friend of mine shared this petition last week and I'm glad I became aware of it. My mam and aunty have done a lot of research into their family history and marriage certificates proved useless for finding out anything about other women in the family. Considering many of these women raised large families, as well as working tirelessly to provide for them, I think they deserve a lot more recognition than they get.

 In the 20th and 21st centuries we have already made great gains towards equality in terms of legislation, the Equal Pay Act 1970, followed by the 2010 Equality Act, the 1991 Marital Rape Act (1991 - how did it take so long??) and many more. Women are still systematically left out if history and in 2014 it is ridiculous to think this still goes on.

 By just using the fathers' names and occupations it also makes it look as though marriage is a transaction between the bride and groom's fathers. The last time I checked I wasn't a prized farm animal there as a bartering tool. Our marriage is between me and my fiancé, it isn't a business transaction. I love my parents and my out-laws very much, our mothers however were the ones who did the most bringing us up and surely they deserve the recognition for it?

 So please, lend your voice to a good cause and sign the petition HERE!

Tutorial: Don't get mad, get creative!

Hello readers!

 I had my engagement party on Saturday and despite all the stress that came with it it was a fantastic night. One thing I was fixated on however was how I looked on the night. A bit shallow, yes, but I felt that I'd spent so much time wanting it to be a good night for my guests that I forgot to spend time on how I'd feel.

 I had a fantastic dress from Vivien of Holloway and it made me feel just wonderful (once my Grandma altered it a little, it was a bit too big in the chest!). However when it came to shoes it was something I'd left to the last minute. The ones I ordered weren't going to arrive in time and it upset me more than it should have, but with how stressed I was I could kind of justify it. Anyway, I thought rather than stewing I'd channel my energy into something a bit more creative and take matters into my own hands. Customising shoes is much easier than I thought it would be, so here's a short guide on how you can make your own patriarchy-kicking, wonderful shoes:

You will need:

• An old pair of shoes, either some you already own or a pair from a charity shop
• Spray paint - any colour you like, I went for red.
• A spray on varnish, I went for satin finish varnish for that shiny look.
• Masking tape, and lots of.
• Cotton buds
• Glue
• Newspaper
• Ribbon, buckles, ribbons etc - all optional but however you want to pretty them up.

                                               

 These are the shoes I started off with, I'd gotten them when I was sixteen for a party and they've been my go-to pair ever since but over the years they've gotten battered, scuffed, scratched and kind of lost their mojo, so I thought they were due for some TLC.

 Masking tape over all of the bits you don't want painting. I wanted them red but thought doing the whole thing would be a bit too much. Be sure to use lots and that it's firmly stuck to the shoes, I found when I peeled it off that little bits of paint had leaked under the tape but it was easy enough to clean off with a baby wipe as it stayed damp under the tape.

 Be sure to spray them outside or in a well-ventilated area. You don't want to get it on your furniture or on your pets! I got a few strange looks from my neighbours while wearing a scarf over my face (if you're asthmatic too or generally have a bad chest I'd recommend doing the same, or getting somebody else to spray them for you) and holding a can of spray paint in the back yard. My landlord still hasn't seen the two big red patches on the ground out there yet... So even if you're doing it outside it might be best to put newspaper down.

 Stormageddon wouldn't really suit being red, he'd clash with his viv interior.

 Leave them to dry for an hour or so, I left mine in the bathroom with the window wide open, just with it being a shared yard and I didn't want any flies or anything getting stuck to them. Once the first coat has dried spray on a second (again in a well-ventilated area/outside). Some patches may have appeared if the material isn't very porous but they should get covered up with the second coat. Leave to dry once again, it may take a little longer this time. Once they're okay to pick up check for any little patches that don't warrant spraying the whole thing but are still noticeable, if there are any then spray some paint into the top of the lid and fill in these patches with a cotton bud.

 Lookin' good! Recycling old papers at the same time.

 Once they paint is totally dry take them outside and spray the varnish if you're using any, it gives a nice finish to them. The varnish takes a little longer to do so make yourself a cuppa, watch some telly, perhaps do like I did and do those bits of DIY you've been meaning to get round to! Depending on the brand/type it may even be best to leave them overnight.

 When you're happy that the varnish is dry and you want to go ahead with dolling them up then prepare the bits you want to go on. I made straps out of faux-leather ribbon and buckles that you can find in any haberdashery department/shop and used some ribbon as a trim. I'm not great in heels to the straps really made all the difference for me, I felt much more secure. Superglue holds the straps well but I found that it took the paint away with the ribbon so if you can find anything more suitable please leave a comment!

 And voilà! Complete, comfy and gorgeous.

 I'd also like to say a big thank you to my lovely sister-out-law for giving me the idea to customise my own shoes after I got these beauties from her for Christmas.

 Yes, they are Doctor Who shoes ;)

Happy shoe making!

Update: The shoes in action!!

...Best not to ask

The Big Question

  When we announced our engagement the first questions a lot of people asked were "so how did he do it?", "where's your ring?", "did you know he was planning on proposing?". The reality of it was none of those. The few of our friends who had been there when I popped the question didn't bat an eyelid when I said I was planning on doing it.

 We'd been talking about the idea of marriage for about six months until then and the idea of me proposing to Paul hadn't even crosses my mind in that time, I always thought that despite my feminist ideals it was something I still wouldn't do until I actually did it. It was when we decided to level the playing field and both get sized for rings, take the pressure off both sides that I made my mind up, he always said that if I was expecting an engagement ring then why shouldn't he? Which is a fair point really. I planned to do it when we were down in London for Socialism 2013, I thought it'd be the perfect place, surrounded by our friends and with my best man on hand to keep me calm. I told a few people so that there would be a small (but not suspiciously large!) crowd. I was shaking for the whole night. Socialism was help on November 2nd and 3rd and it was Paul's birthday on the 3rd. I had a feeling he knew something was going on so I bought a birthday cake to cover my tracks a little ;)

 When it went midnight my Best Man had organised for the lights to come on and the music to stop, I was all prepared with the birthday cake, we sang happy birthday and then I gave him his present: a bottle of 21 year old MacDuff Highland single malt whisky with "will you be my companion?" written on the bottle. When I handed it over he turned back round and I was down on one knee with the ring. I'd been thinking it was all going to plan until he whispered "Lizi... It's too dark, I can't read it!"

 I knew I would be a big bag of nerves so I thought the bottle would speak for me but alas, my plans had been foiled! I managed to choke out a "will you marry me?", my childhood stutter coming back to haunt me at the worst possible moment. But he said yes, I cried, he cried, other people cried. very much a night to remember...

The Story So Far...

Hello all and welcome!

 Let me begin at the beginning. Back in November I proposed to my partner of two and a half years on the side of a bottle of whisky in the basement of a youth hostel in London. I'd been planning it for months after many late-night passing conversations about marriage and proposals and so on... Anyway!

An awesome pair of geet losers ;)

 (Thanks to my Best Man for the picture, and for facilitating the whole thing really.)

 So yes, a little about myself. I'm Lizi, one of those feminist types you were warned about. I met Paul back in 2010 on the student demonstrations in Newcastle. By no means love at first sight, we knew each other by looking I'd say but nothing more. We met properly on May Day in 2011 and got to talking while he was promoting the Youth Fight For Jobs Jarrow March. May Day in Newcastle is always wonderful, that year being exceptionally sunny and warm. It was nice to put a name to his face and after that we talked more and more often. It wasn't until a meeting on the night before the June 30th strike that year when a mutual friend took us out for drinks that things started getting romantic. Romantic-ish. In fact even that's a big exaggeration. That summer we bonded over left-wing politics, feminism and Doctor Who, with a dash of Morgan's Spiced rum in there.

 We live together with our lovely little hedgehog, Stormageddon, I study sociology and work part-time in a pub and Paul works full time in a call centre. 

Our lovely little Stormy

  

 Our wedding isn't for another three years (ish - no date yet) and I'm hoping that through blogging I'll be able to find some sanity within planning for the big day. I know they're going to fly by!

Happy reading! xx