One word that really inspires a whole lot of unmotivated sighing and eye rolling for me.
It even sounds pointless.
Twice a week (sometimes three times depending on who you ask) I’m supposed to devote an extra ten to fifteen minutes in the shower running a thin itty bitty teeny tiny RAZOR across my skin in allllll kinds of sensitive areas. And for what?! To wear capris every single day of the week since the Sun’s temperature has been set on deep-fry?
I’m gonna wear those capris even if my legs look like an undisturbed forest in 652 B.C.
And to add insult to injury, I’m then expected to maintain those smooth surfaces year-round?
A few of my friends have even recommended electric razors for women, but do you have any idea what those things do? They literally pull the hair up by the root! Yeah, its effectiveness has been proven to last for up to six weeks, but at what cost? That junk HURTS!
Of course there’s wax, but I’d rather run around looking like Chewbacca than willingly slather melted candles onto my skin and rip it off with foot-long strips of paper. Seriously, the Wookie look is in, baby!
Here’s the thing, for women everywhere, well, at least here in the US, the standard has been set for us to have hair-free skin. I get it. I honestly, truly, really do. I love when my legs are shaved! But having hairless legs doesn’t do me any good when I’m lost in the jungle somewhere, and I can’t tell which direction the wind is blowing because there’s no windflag growing on my shins. And that, my friends, is a problem. The only other good reason to have baby-smooth legs is if someone is touching them.
I’m not sure what the proper age is for young women to start shaving. For me, I wasn’t allowed to until my armpits started growing hair. But every family’s rules are different.
At first, at the age of 14, shaving was no big deal. It was actually fun. I got to wear these cute little pre-teen miniskirts and flirtatiously rub my legs up against someone else. I also got to experience the sting of a nick when you’re awkwardly doing gymnastics in the shower trying to get the little bastards growing on the side of your ankle. And don’t get me started on the razor burn! I’m not sure how many of you have ever drenched your legs in kerosene and set them on fire, but oooooweeee did that razor burn hurt!
My legs, among other things, were baby smooth. Cool deal!
Then I hit the age where I thought I needed to shave my arms too. Why? I don’t know. I’m a blonde. My arm hair is blonde, my leg hair is mostly blonde, really, I could probably get away with not shaving if I don’t call attention to it.
Here’s the kicker.
Men don’t want to touch your legs if you haven’t shaved.
I’M TOO LAZY TO SHAVE MY LEGS FOR YOU.
Unless of course, I really like you. (Please refer to picture below)
Now that you understand that, you men have got to know, I am not shaving my legs every day for you.
That little bit of stubble is a problem for you?
GET OVER IT.
That little bit of stubble should only tell you one thing. At some point, obviously very recently, I cared enough about you touching my legs to shave them. But no no no. I refuse to do it everyday. Because you know what, we’re not getting frisky everyday. That might be the only thing that may (or may not) excite me enough to shave my legs for you.
Ok, to be honest, the REAL reason I really would prefer not to shave my legs for you all the time is because I don’t want to set the bar too high. Especially early on in a new dating situation. I’ve ran a few experiments over the course of my last few relationships and here is what I have concluded:
If I shave my legs for you everyday in the beginning of a relationship, you will undoubtedly grow to expect my legs to be forever slippery smooth. When the day comes that I don’t feel like running out of hot water in the shower so that you can run your hand up my legs without getting splinters, you will then realize that our relationship has either:
A) Gotten too comfortable
B) Lost the “spice”
C) Coming to an end
D) Gotten too comfortable
E) All of the above
As you can see, if I set that standard too high, it is going to just set an insurmountable obstacle in front of us later on down the road. I imagine the argument consisting of a whole lot of angry questions.
You: “Ouch! Your leg hair cut me.”
Me: “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to shave the last couple of days.”
You: “Well, can you shave tonight, please? I really don’t want to get cut up tonight by your legs while we’re sleeping.”
Me: “I’ll wear pajama pants.”
You: “Why can’t you just shave?”
Me: “Why haven’t you shaved?”
You: “Shaved what?”
*Insert a beard scratch or crotch itch here*
Me: “Shaved what? I don’t know, maybe you could try shaving your balls. Your hand is permanently attached to scratching them.”
Alright, maybe that’s not a lot of angry questions, but you get the point. It sets the standard way too high.
In my mind, if I don’t shave my legs on a daily basis, you’ll come to love me for me. Fur coat and all. And that’s going to give me a lot of really great thoughts about you. It works out for both of us. I know you genuinely care about me, and you’ll know that I know that you care about me, so I may even start treating you to fresh shaves more often!
So, future boyfriend, please accept my premature apology for not always having sleek legs, EVEN while we’re in the early stages of dating. It’s really a preventive measure, more for your benefit, so that you won’t ever be too disappointed when I walk around the house in your basketball shorts and it looks like your legs from the waist down. I can, however, promise to never let my leg hair, or any other hair, get so gross that you don’t want to touch me, and I promise to never joke about dreadlocking or cornrowing my leg hairs. But, I cannot promise that my legs and everything else will always be shaved when we take things to the bedroom. Mostly because that would require premeditation that things may in fact lead there, and I never actually see that coming.
To sum it up:
Baby, if you can’t handle a little moss on my tree trunks, then you don’t get to feel the bark.