Living as a bearded lady isn't easy. Despite my best efforts to conceal, or at times ignore, my hirsutism, I have oft been found out. In bright sunlight, my secret isn't much of a secret at all. I am a hairy woman, a bearded woman, or as my ex-husband once called me, a bearded motherf*cker. Maybe it was more than once.

I have facial hair and body hair. To make matters worse, I am also twenty to fifty pounds away from my happy weight at any given time. At the moment, it's closer to fifty.

I have been a victim of fat shaming, body shaming, and bullying.

One day, my ex-boyfriend said he had a question. He was asking for a friend.

If a woman you know has facial hair, should you tell her so she can do something about it? he asked.

No, I replied. I'm sure she already knows.

I think it would be better to tell her, he insisted.

I knew exactly what he was getting at.

The conversation continued for an uncomfortable length of time before I convinced him that this very nice hypothetical woman in question would decidedly not like to hear his friend's opinion on her facial hair, but I never felt confident around him again.

That's when I noticed that I also had sideburns.

Although I had been cutting, plucking, shaving and battling the problem for more than a decade, I'd thus far confined my efforts to my jawline, neck, and upper lip. How had I not realized the thick hair trailing from my ears to my jawline was unnatural?

I began to shave that, too.

Approximately 43,000 words

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