Leg Measles or Why I Don’t Wear Shorts
I first picked up a pair of tweezers and pulled out a hair in my second year of university. I had had my legs waxed for the first time, a gift from my mom in preparation for a week at an all-inclusive 3-star resort in Cuba, the first trip I had ever saved up and paid for myself, and was disappointed to see a few stray hairs remained on my shins. That’s normal, my mom said, just pluck them out. I have dark, thick hair and pale skin and each hair that had been too stubborn for the wax slid easily from my leg as I pulled it with the tweezer. It felt like I was cleaning the follicles out. You could still see a couple of round grey shadows, what I thought of as “leg pores”, but the skin was as blemish-free and clear as it had ever been, and it was smooth.
I had always hated the five-o-clock leg shadow that seemed to surface mere hours after shaving. Ever since puberty, I had eyed all the girls’ legs in change rooms, in their short shorts during the summer, wondering why shaving seemed to make their hair disappear completely while it only made my legs looks like a corkboard, full of dark holes. Every once in a while, I saw a person with legs like mine and would feel a little nod of satisfaction and kinship because they didn’t seem to mind, they had friends and could still be described as pretty. Why did I have to mind so much?
Waxing brought me closer to my ideal, but it wasn’t perfect, and I’ve never been good at consistent personal grooming. Teeth brushed and hair brushed was and is still the most I bother with day to day. So even though I plucked out the new hairs as they started to grow in, eventually the full forest was back.
But one day, while cramming the night before a psychology exam, I absently scratched at my leg under my oversize jeans and felt the prickle of all that new growth. After how smooth my legs had been over the Christmas holidays, I felt almost angry at this affront. I went to the bathroom, got my tweezer, and went after the longest and darkest of the hairs. But after they were gone, the hairs that were left looked just as dark and long with nothing to compare them to, so I kept going. Some hairs had become ingrown, so I freed them, digging into the skin with the sharp point of the tweezer. That hurt, and bled a bit, but it was also satisfying. It felt like justice – the hair did not belong there, it couldn’t escape me, and I had cleaned it out. Success! And then the alarm I had set to make sure I didn’t sleep through my exam went off. I had been picking for over 7 hours, systematically removing each and every hair below my knees. It was truly unbelievable how much hair I had. Because even after all that time, I hadn’t managed to get them all. There were still quite a few left. I let my alarm ring for over 10 minutes as I went after just one more, just one more, but there always seemed to be more, and I shifted over and whacked the alarm off, and just needed to finish, there was still time, you can be up to 30 minutes late for an exam and still write it, you just have to put the tweezers down, put them down now, put them down, stop it, put them DOWN, what is WRONG with you.
By the time I managed to put them down, when I couldn’t find any more hairs to pick, some of the follicles of the hairs I had picked first were starting to scab, and my legs were entirely covered with red bumps. I thought it looked like I had leg-specific measles. They were hairless now, but they were not smooth and blemish-free. And I was more than two hours late for a three hour exam. I was going to fail the course – for this.
Having had some experience with doctor’s notes for mental health reasons in my first year, I headed straight for the medical station on campus. I waited in the waiting room watching the last few minutes of exam time tick by on my watch.
When reception called my name and I went in to meet the doctor, I didn’t even know how to explain what had happened. I lifted my pants leg and showed her what I’d done to myself, and I’ll never forget her reaction, which was to lean in, brow furrowed, and burst out “That’s so weird.” So thank you for that, doctor lady. It’s not that weird, I thought, and it isn’t really – it even has a name, I later found out. An official scientific name. Trichotillomania. Hair-pulling disorder.
Most people who experience trichotillomania pull hair from their scalp and eyebrows. There’s a lot of advice online on microblading and wigs. Most images and articles that I’ve seen don’t spend a lot of time on the scabbing, the calluses, or the bleeding.
The people who know about this particular issue of mine have been given instructions. Do not leave tweezers in my sight. If I’m in your bathroom for a weirdly long time, I’m probably picking. Please stop me. Ignore the glimpses of blood on my ankles if my socks aren’t high or my pant legs aren’t long enough.
So many people have tried to help. If I had tweezers, then I would pick. So the thought became – take the tweezers away from me. Confiscate them when she buys them. Hide the ones we have in the house. But if tweezers weren’t available, I’d use my fingers, which was almost worse, because it would chip at my nails and tear into the nail bed, ruining my fingers as well as my legs.
I have read articles. I have talked to a therapist. I have tried clenching my hands and waiting for the urge to pass. I have tried moisturizer. I have tried higher doses of the drugs I’m already on for depression, anxiety, and OCD. I have tried wearing leggings and never taking them off so I can’t see or feel the hair. Obviously every visit to the toilet or shower foils this plan. I’ve tried throwing away the tweezers and painting my nails with intricate designs so I wouldn’t want to use them for picking and ruin them. I swear to you, I have tried.
Trichotillomania is a beast. I have bought and thrown away dozens of tweezers. I have dug actual holes deep into my legs searching for hairs. I have bled through pajama pants, bled on my sheets, missed appointments, missed lunch dates, missed lovely, valuable, heavenly, badly-needed hours of sleep while tearing into my own skin. I have rifled single-mindedly through the cabinets and drawers of friends and family looking for their tweezers. I am so sorry.
When this first started in 2009, I could sometimes make it a couple of weeks, maybe even occasionally a month, without picking. I’d try extra hard to avoid it before holidays, so I could look okay in photos, at least at a distance.
But it has gotten to the point where, for the last 7 years at least, I do it almost every day. Sometimes I make it two before succumbing. Sometimes I manage to keep sessions to 10 minutes or half an hour. I probably average 2 hours per day these days.
I hate it. I want to stop. I do not ever wear shorts now. I do not wear bathing suits. A couple of times my self-inflicted wounds have gotten infected, and there was one time I could barely walk for a week. I hate to think how many hours, days, weeks of my life have passed doing nothing but shining a flashlight on my legs as I dig out more and more ingrown hairs from tougher and tougher skin, the hope of smooth and clear skin long-gone, not even the point anymore, never going to happen, blood on my arms, blood on my legs, why do some areas bleed so much and so dark, I’ve ruined myself. What kind of things could I have achieved if I’d used those hours for something useful? Or at least something not actively harmful. But also, I don’t want to stop, because those hairs need to be removed. How dare they grow underneath my skin, forming purple and bluish little snakes that look like veins but never are, somehow they’re always hair, every time, endless, I was just here yesterday, how are there more, and it does feel so good to feel/hear/experience that tiny pull-pop release as one is ripped from the follicle properly and completely, not just broken away and hard to get to, avoiding me like it belongs there, like it has a right to be there. At my worst moments of feeling useless and overwhelmed and unaccomplished, there is something very clear and specific I can do, and success is measurable and immediate. And at my most anxious moments, or when I feel sick and nauseated, there is something soothing and repetitive to zone me out and remove me from the worst of those feelings, helping time pass.
So when I’m slow to return a text, or busy with school and work, or late for an appointment, or taking a month to read a 200 page book, just please know that I am always, always, every day, dealing with this as well.
I’m writing this because I’ve wanted to explain what it’s like to need to pick for ages, any time someone new sees my legs. I also hope that in writing it, maybe more helpful information more specific to my situation might come my way. I’m writing it because I know I’m not the only person who experiences difficulties that affect them every day of their lives, and I think it’s useful to hear from as many people as we can about what they’re going through, so we can remember to live with empathy and compassion. I hope some people will feel seen by this, and some people who think it’s so weird can hear about it for the first time and learn something.
101 things to do in 1001 days; #13: Do 10,000 steps every day for a month
So the April attempt ended on April 16th at 9,944 steps because I was watching a show with a friend on Zoom and didn’t realize how long the episode was. Despite some blatant cheating at the end (literally knocking my hands together while dancing in place to try to make it to 10,000), I had to accept defeat. It’s fine, I thought, I’ll push it to May, and that’s better anyway, because it’s 31 days, so you’ll REALLY be doing it for a full month! May lasted 4 days. I don’t even remember what stopped me that time, but I decided that JULY would REALLY be the month, because it was still a 31-day month, and it was also the last month of the 416k Women’s Run, so it would be a good way to ensure that I finished. And did I procrastinate to the extent that I needed to run 10k the night of July 30th and 5k July 31st in order to make it in time? Yes. But I did it!
(In my defense, summer courses with exams every 2 weeks are hard.)
And with that, two more items can be crossed off The List, although I’m not posting the 416 conclusion until I get my last little reward in the mail.
101 things to do in 1001 days IN PROGRESS; #7: Complete the 416 Women’s Run
I just reached 300km in my quest to complete the Toronto Women’s 416 Run Challenge! Which means I get another little charm in the mail – the U/1 (R/6 for the first 150km, and N/4 for finishing – which I obviously have to do because I’m not walking around with a bracelet that says “RU”). The Challenge was started last year to help get people moving while we go through various stages of lockdown. The last day to record your kilometres is July 31st, so I’m definitely going to have to step it up for the last stretch.
I’m fundraising for Second Harvest Food Rescue this year, so if you have anything to spare and would like to support the cause, please consider donating by clicking on the link below.
https://raceroster.com/events/2021/33477/toronto-womens-416-run-challenge/pledge/participant/9987419
10,000 steps, unfortunately, will have to wait until summer courses are over.
101 things to do in 1001 days IN PROGRESS; #99: Start painting your nails again (5 pretty designs)
Occasionally, I like to do my nails. Sometimes it turns out okay, sometimes it does not. Most of the time, it’s an excellent way to prevent me from chewing them. It’s been a while, and sometimes it’s hard to get motivated to spend so much time doing something that often turns out disappointing, so I thought a list item might motivate me. Here’s the first design for #99.
This is my first time using nail tape. I like it! Probably need to trim it better next time, but definitely a fun new tool in the toolbox.
(I also fully intend to use a nail photo for #TheLetterN on Instagram at some point – it’s not cheating, it’s being efficient!)
101 things to do in 1001 days IN PROGRESS; #13: Do 10,000 steps every day for a month (also #7: Complete the 416 Women’s Run)
For the month of April (and one day of May, for a full 31 days), I hope to take at least 10,000 steps each day. Sure, that’s an arbitrary number based on an old marketing decision, but it’s a nice, round-numbered goal to work toward as I try to get back in something resembling shape.
I ran a whole entire marathon on the Great Wall of China in 2019, and now I can’t do 5k without taking a break. That’s what a medical event, pandemic lockdown, depression, and a couple of Canadian winters can do to a person.
As part of this effort, I’m also participating in the Toronto Women’s 416 Run Challenge (pic 1), which was started last year to help get people moving while we go through various stages of lockdown. The last day to record your kilometres is July 31st, and I’ve only just received my 150k charm (pic 2), so I’ve got a ways to go. 10,000 steps a day, whether run or walked, will help with that.
I also wanted acknowledge how far I’ve already come (pic 3) and start off with a bang, so I have made sure to complete my FitBit hourly challenge on April 1st (pics 4, 5).
101 things to do in 1001 days; #92: Wash face properly every night for a month (like with the Korean creams and everything)
I did it! I used those creams every day, and for once, they may not expire before they’re finished. Might do that mask again tonight to celebrate.
How’s the skin? I don’t know if it looks all that much better, but it feels amazing. But instead of the dry, flakey skin and little red spots/the occasional rash along my jawline, all month I’ve been getting those deep, painful zits that take a while to surface, on my nose and chin. I suspect this might be the mask-ne that people have been talking about. Either way, I don’t like it, and the creams don’t help. My normal go-to, Clearasil Ultra Rapid Action Vanishing Treatment, expired early last year and hasn’t been very effective, but they were sold out when I went to Shoppers, so I bought this Oxy Deep Pore Acne Vanishing Treatment that they did have, and it’s done nothing.
Goodness, this is a fascinating entry, isn’t it? Anyway, number 92 is done, and I’ll be starting another month-long venture tonight.
101 things to do in 1001 days; #64: Watch and review No Country for Old Men
Repeat to self: No Country for Old Men, Children of Men, and There Will Be Blood are different movies. No Country for Old Men, Children of Men, and There Will Be Blood are different movies. No Country for Old Men, Children of Men, and There Will Be Blood are different movies.
Warning: This review is going to make people who are serious about movies seriously question their friendship with me.
So, a film that begins with two dead dogs and a bloody limpy one is a film there’s a good chance I’m just not going to like. But even without the dogs, No Country for Old Men didn’t do much for me. It’s hard to get invested in such a bleak movie. Tommy Lee Jones’s sheriff is the only characters I cared about, except for Carla Jean (ETA: Oh, and Wendell), not that it did her much good. Sure, Javier Bardem is chilling, but what was the point in watching this? Why do people watch movies or TV shows or read books?
| Why might one watch a movie? | Did this movie have that for me? |
| for the story | no |
| for the writing/script | no |
| for the cinematography | no |
| for the likeable or interesting characters | not enough to make it worth it |
| for the acting | no |
| to inspire feelings (happiness, sadness, fear, etc) | no, other than confusion for what I’m supposed to be getting out of this |
| to learn something | no |
| to make you think | no |
| to pass the time | I mean, I guess, but there are better ways to do it |
| to complete your list (of Coen Brothers movies, of Things to Do…) | so there was a reason |
Of the Coen Brother’s movies, I’ve seen Hail, Cesar! (liked it a lot! Would that it were so simple!), Raising Arizona (I saw this in, I think, middle school, and I really enjoyed it – I’d love to rewatch it now because I barely remember a thing), and Fargo (adored). Not a fan of this one.
Obviously this is purely personal preference. It’s not as though the movie’s badly acted or poorly written, or has any huge continuity errors or shitty production value. It’s certainly making me think about what I want out of movies, what movies I tend to love or admire or want to rewatch. Good comedies (Life of Brian, Young Frankenstein, Men in Black, Galaxy Quest, Elf, The Lego Movie), and adventure stories (The Mummy, Star Wars, Back to the Future) tend to do best. Mysteries and puzzle boxes (The Prestige, Knives Out), beautiful/thoughtful/meditative animation (Wall-E, Coco, Inside Out, basically Pixar, but also Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse and Tangled) are good. Certain family movies, apparently, looking at the list (Matilda, Holes). Musicals (Sound of Music, South Park, Prince of Egypt, Lion King). I’m not really sure what to call Stranger Than Fiction, Fargo, Mad Max: Fury Road, and V for Vendetta, but them too. Dour, serious Oscar bait with no overarching point or message aren’t really my bag, I guess. Except GoodFellas. I loved that movie.
101 things to do in 1001 days; #55: Watch and review Django Unchained
Well, it was nice to see Christoph Waltz use his powers for good this time.
I did really enjoy this movie, but damn, it was an uncomfortable watch, given the amount of torture and N-words we are submitted to in the name of entertainment. I mean, it’s not like this was a serious movie about slavery; it was a fantasy revenge flick, so I’m not sure all the torture and, again, constant use of the N-word was necessary (seriously, it was about 80% of the script).
It’s hard not to compare this to Inglourious Basterds, given that I just watched it a few weeks ago and they’re both historical revisionist vengeance fantasies. I think (?) I liked this one better, if I must choose (and I always must) because the good guys actually win and the bad guys actually lose here, and Fox and Waltz are so fun to watch, but I do wish the women woman had had literally anything to do other than scream, be abused, and be rescued.
Also, this video feels relevant:
Feet feet, feet feet feet. Feet feet, feet feet feet. Feet feet. Feet feet. Feet feet, feet-feet-feet.
101 things to do in 1001 days IN PROGRESS; #92: Wash face properly every night for a month (like with the Korean creams and everything)
I’ve gotten lazy during the pandemic.
Actually, that’s not true, I’ve always been lazy, but my skin has gotten weirdly bad during the pandemic. It’s dryer and spottier than it used to be, despite no change in routine. I’m not sure if it’s the stress or the fact that I rarely leave the house, but it seems like it could use some extra care and attention.
When I was in Korea (I am aware I sound like Phoebe constantly saying “At my old school…” when I do this), my skin went bad. Worse than it had ever been, even during the ravages of puberty. Painful, pimply rashes covered my jaw and cheeks. So on the advice of several friends, I went to one of Korea’s famous skin care stores, Skin Food, pointed at my face, and asked for a recommendation. It worked so well that I still use it, 5 years later. Just, you know, much less frequently.
For this List Item, I won’t just use a damp cloth or swipe an Oxy pad across my forehead before I go to sleep. I will rinse, tone, and emulse every night like a goddamned adult, and to start the month of properly, I also used a mask on the night of March 1st, because I felt like being fancy.
The Routine 
The Mask. I was hoping it would be more dramatic, but it’s there, I promise. 
Day 1 picture for later comparison.
101 things to do in 1001 days; #53: Watch and review Parasite
Even though I lived in Korea for a year in 2014/2015 (best 12 months of my life, and I miss the people and the country all the time), I never really got into K-pop, or K-dramas. And I’ve never actually seen a Korean movie until now. Mainly, this is because I’ve never seen most movies. I keep having to make lists like this one to get myself watching classics, old and new. Parasite made such an impact when it came out in 2019 that it seemed a decent place to start.
However, this was me upon finishing the film:
I had to sit with this one for a while. I could tell you straight away that the acting and directing were uniformly superb (and Park So Dam was truly phenomenal – I attribute the popularity of that “Jessica Jingle” entirely to her charisma), and that all of Bong Joon Ho’s other movies immediately went on the To Watch list, but I didn’t know what to do with the tonal shifts and the violence and the metaphors and the epilogue.
So I went to the internet. I don’t consider myself too stupid, and I’ve spent enough time in high school and university writing essays analysing books and movies, but I still found this incredibly slow and blatant breakdown video useful in helping my thoughts settle.
As I said, I’m not a movie buff, so take this with a grain of salt, but Parasite felt like nothing I’ve ever seen before, and was unpredictable without being ridiculous. The more I think about it, the more I appreciate Bong Joon Ho’s refusal to let any character wear the mantle of villain or hero, and what he did with stairs and rain and all his imagery.
I also want to note that there are so many great posters for this movie. Here are some of my favourites:
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