Confession time. Every morning, I have to shave my upper lip. When I wake, the area between my nose and my mouth is a veritable flowerbed of black bristles.

I look like Adolph Hitler’s less attractive distant cousin. It’s a seriously bad mustache.

And, you know what, it’s the same all over! I’m fair skinned, but every bit of my body hair is black. Very, very black.

And it’s not only on my upper lip, but my cheeks, my legs, my armpits, even my toes. You name it. Where there’s fertile flesh, hair will find a way to take root.

It’s something I’ve been battling all my life – but as time has gone on, I’ve come to accept that it’s nothing to be ashamed of.

In fact, I know that countless other gal pals suffer a similarly hirsute affliction. But thankfully, unlike for our parents’ generation, there are now countless of tools, tricks and tips out there to help transform us into perfectly bare beauties.

Personally, I rely on a whole range. A battery-operated rotating blade for the mustache (and hair removal cream for the extra stubborn strands). Tweezers for those scraggly chin ones. A man’s razor – much stronger than women’s – for my legs and toes. (And as for the nether regions, it’s a full-on landscaping job that requires a combination of all those devices. Plus shears.)

Why bother with all that fuss?

Well, it’s simple. Call me old-fashioned, but hairy women just aren’t attractive. Men don’t think so. And women know so – no matter what Rachel McAdams might now have you believe.

This week, the 44-year-old actress gave an interview to Bustle http://bustle.com magazine and flaunted her ‘real’ body in the accompanying photoshoot which we’ve been asked to believe was ‘minimally’ retouched.

There she is, lying resplendent on a lush red couch, lingerie-clad, hair blown out, makeup caked on…. Oh, and a mat of unshaven armpit hair on display.

‘Go girl! How empowering,’ we all didn’t say.

‘Life is long and shaving is intense,’ the Notebook star explained. ‘Once you start, you can never stop!’

But what McAdams failed to realise is that most normal women don’t want to stop looking their best.

Memo to the crusty blue-haired liberals: just because it’s 2023 and you’re all in the grip of a rampaging woke virus doesn’t change that.

The multi-billion-dollar beauty industry thrives for good reason: we women – and I’m talking about biological adult females – are willing to put in the hours in front of the mirror.

You never saw the likes of Princess Diana, Grace Kelly, Marilyn Monroe or Audrey Hepburn spreadeagled like McAdams, looking their slovenly worst. And their reputations as the greatest beauties of all time seem relatively intact.

As it is, McAdams is a con artist.

‘This is my body,’ she says. ‘I think that’s so important to reflect back out to the world.’

Wait – are you really telling me this is an honest reflection?

McAdams has undoubtedly been blessed with exceptionally good looks. But what of the make-up artists, hair and outfit stylists, botox technicians and bright professional photography lighting involved behind the scenes?

‘Minimal’ photoshop retouching? Give me a break!

Perhaps I too would feel comfortable flaunting a bit of pit in a desperate bid to re-ignite my fading acting career when the rest of me is a uber-enhanced version of womanhood.

But this kind of po-faced dishonesty does no favors for the common woman – or whatever you call someone who doesn’t have multi-millions pouring out their ears!

Because we all shave. Cut. Trim. Wax. Do whatever it takes to achieve even a fraction of the soft-focus glamour McAdams and her celeb pals must think is universal.

Does anyone honestly think this shameless stunt even looks that good? I certainly don’t.

No more so than when I felt a visceral revulsion towards Julia Roberts’s hairy underarm display at the 1999 premiere of Notting Hill.

‘It wasn’t so much a statement, as it’s just part of the statement I make as a human on the planet, for myself,’ she whined at the time.

Get a grip, girls!

In my advancing years, I am getting hairier by the day – and I hope that when I finally depart this life, I will have a mortician who will have the good grace to make sure I enter the next one peachy clean and fresh.

But until then, I’ll keep on hacking away at this mustache.