The heads of thick black hairs waiting just under the surface of the skin.
This is, I'm assuming, at least partially because I am Greek, if that helps you with the imagery at all.
Being a hairy lady is hard, especially when unrealistic standards of beauty in the media would have you believing that every grown woman is as free of body hair as she was the day she slid out of the womb.
I've definitely substituted my upper lip hair for a red bleach burn scab before, and even the most veteran bleacher can make a boo-boo.
Not too shocking that a film in which two fed-up teens go on a popular kid killing spree did not go over well with audiences at first.
This girl had pube-like sideburns, and when she finally recovered from her injury, the bleach, even though left on way longer than it should have been, only managed to turn the hairs orange, rather than the angelic, diaphanous white a hairy girl hopes for.
They treat me like I would somehow be damaging to children.
I wax, I bleach and I shave, but I'm not as upset about my hairiness as you'd think.