Wishful Shaving

I haven’t shaved my legs above the knee in 30 years. What would be the point? My short shorts and miniskirt days are long gone. It’s not as disgusting as you might think, though. With this habitual neglect, the hair has become so light and thin over the years that you can barely tell it’s there.

However I was shaving below the knee the other day, and I was thinking how silly that is, too. In the cold rainy climate of Seattle I doubt I’ll be exposing my legs to the viewing public between now and June. It would be so much easier to go native.

Ah, but I still live in hope. Perhaps someday my prince will come and want to take a spontaneous gander at my gams, a peek at my pegs. To quit shaving would be to give up entirely on that possibility, and I’m not quite there yet.

So I will continue to perform this tedious ritual, if only to light a figurative candle in the window of the lonely little cabin in the woods that is my life. I’d hate for someone to pass by thinking no one was home. That would be tragic.

0302-shaving-legs_li

[Image credit: glamour.com]

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