I feel like I’m rarely vulnerable on this blog, which is funny because before I put my blogging on blast, I would treat this social media platform like a paraded diary for strangers on the internet to read. So, as an attempt to be more ~open~, I give you the tale of my little three-day self-love roller coaster which took place on Valentine's Day.
A guide to loving your natural fuzz—or bush—or forest—or jungle. You get the picture.
I’m mostly Indonesian and Dutch, but I am part Arab from my maternal grandfather. In case you didn’t know what state Arab’s body hair is in: it’s “a lot”. I’ve got hair on my knuckles, my arms, the back of my neck, my back, my arm pit, my legs, my face (cheeks, moustache, between the brows, below the brows, temples, forehead, above the brows, chin, jaw), i’ve even got extended sideburns. Yeah, I get thick brows, hair, and long eyelashes, but I’ve got hair in every place society says I shouldn’t.
© Selena Soemakno. All rights served unless stated otherwise.