Fuzzy

I think I've decided to stop shaving my legs.

Mostly because I'm lazy and I don't like having to think about it. Not that when I am thinking about it I do it very often anyway, so I'm not sure how much of a decision I've made. But for the time being, I'm just going to ignore it until it either icks me out or Mean Monkey absolutely hates it. Or something. Mean Monkey already makes fun of me for my slack shaving habits, but since he decided to grow a mountain man beard because he hates shaving I figure it's going to take a while before it's fair that he gets icked out. (I like the beard, so I'm not getting back at him or anything.) It's not such a huge step away from conformity because I'm fair skinned and light-haired, so most of the time it's not noticeable except to the stubble patrol. And I don't really deal with the stubble patrol, you know.

But once I started thinking about it (about 5 minutes before I started writing this), I got kind of curious as to what I would look like with fuzzy legs. It's been about fifteen years since I became fuzz free, and the more I thought about it the more I disliked it. I'm not really comfortable with the idea that 11 year old girls are expected to shave their legs (and I was not an early adapter of this habit). As an adult, it kind of creeps me out. Anyway, them's my thoughts today! Not really on topic, but oh well.