Hello there! It’s me again, Cherie. Bringing you something fresh for the week.
I’m calling it Mindful Monday!
Today I’d like to talk about something that often gets me blank stares…
From time to time, SASS gets to play host to a student or two from our local colleges who join us to complete their work placements. Currently we are lucky to have a wonderful social service worker student on our team. She has been with us for about a month, so you may have seen her out and about with us at SASS engagements. She has been putting a lot of work in, preparing a seminar on women’s health (details to be announced soon) and amping up our drop-in teen support centre, open to girls 13-18 on Thursdays from 2-5:30. We think she is great and are sure you all will to. So without further ado, introducing…….Cherie!
Something I feel that I’m actually quite good at is making fun of myself. Whenever I fail or I do something stupid/ridiculous/weird, I opt to crack a joke at my own expense. Experience has taught me, it is better that I do it myself than leave the opportunity available to someone else. I’m also quite good at ‘seeming’ modest (Yes, I see the irony here Continue reading
I remember, as a sensitive child and self-conscious adolescent, I never liked the idea of looking “funny.” I shrunk from wearing any type of attire that might attract negative attention to myself—real or imagined. As a young adult, I no longer spent as much time worrying about “puffy” hair or bulgy outfits, yet I still found it a challenge to put on the Islamic hijab, a cloth worn by Muslim women to cover their hair and necks. This attire certainly did attract attention—and much of it negative.
So what’s in a piece of cloth? Why did I choose to put it on my head? What did—and now does–it mean to me? Continue reading
Today we are delving in and taking a closer look at Kim Bauersfeld, counsellor at Sexual Assault Support Services (SASS) for Women of SDG&A.
Kim began working in the social service industry more than 16 years ago. For the past 7 years, Kim has been counselling women at SASS. She has an average of 20 clients at any given time, all survivors of sexual violence. Continue reading
We’ve been talking an awful lot about hair lately, in fact it’s all we’ve been talking about really. One of our great volunteers got thinking about it and asked if she could add her 2 cents into the chat. So, without further ado, here is her hair story.
As a kid I never really thought about body hair, I never noticed it on other people and never really noticed it on myself. It was just hair. I remember the day I looked down at the tiny blonde hairs on my legs; it was Grade 6 and gym class. I looked at my legs and my friend’s legs, and I was the only one out of the girls who had hairy legs. I was confused; they never said anything but they did treat me differently compared to everyone else. I started to think “was that the reason? “, Continue reading
I left off with my success story in finding sugar lady Sara and becoming a hairless meerkat. This hairless state lasted for several years, throughout most of my university experience. I never missed a hair removal appointment, and shaved arms and legs almost daily. By the time I reached my last year of university I was getting fed up. Continue reading
A couple of weeks ago I wrote about the relationship I have with my body hair, a love/hate one to be exact. I left off with finally being allowed to shave my legs. I immediately began to hate the whole process of constantly shaving my legs and arm pits. Unfortunately, this obsession with hair indeed continues.
As a late-blooming, not part of the “in crowd” yet not quite an outcast, and overall average girl, life in high school felt extremely difficult. Whether I was battling my mom on the functionality and affordability of UGG boots or complaining to a teacher about the date of our next Biology test being right after a dance, high school seemed like a constant battle. Continue reading
The first time I remember being aware of my body hair was when I was about 12 years old. I was convinced that my dark hair was so incredibly obvious that the first thing everyone immediately noticed about me was my manly, hairy legs. I thought people were disgusted by them, by me. I wanted desperately to shave my hairy legs and have the silky smooth look that I was certain the pretty and popular girls at my school always had (not to mention all of the beautiful women on television). Seeing as I hadn’t yet hit puberty and barely had the tiniest amount of peach fuzz Continue reading