Photo courtesy of Wikipedia
Today, I am very tired. My day began far too early with what I call the “panic wake up.” You know what I’m talking about – you start slowly waking up only to realize: HOLY-CRAP-THE-ALARM-DIDN’T-GO-OFF-AND NOW-I-AM-SOOO-LATE and you shoot out of bed. The days of needing an alarm clock seem far behind me now that I have a child… Anyhoo, my wake-up call this morning was the sound of Jenna vomiting in her bed. After everything was cleaned up and she settled down, she asked to come lay in my bed with me. I was just starting to relax from the adrenaline rush and enjoying the snuggly time with her, when suddenly she simultaneously coughed and vomited all over herself, MY bed, and ME. Sigh.
(That introduction has nothing to do with the title of this post except to give you some inkling of the sleep deprivation and state of mind that led to the thoughts behind this post. )
I was able to take a shower while Aunt A occupied the angelic little puke-producer, and while I was going through my normal daily care routine I realized the HUGE amount of time I devote to hair removal of some sort or another. Now, admittedly, I have been cursed with an ungodly amount of body hair. On the scale of “Bald to Cousin It”, I’m definitely close to the “Cousin It” end. Since puberty, I’ve valiantly battled the hairy beast that seeks to emerge. I’ve tried gels, creams, wax, bleach, tweezers, razors, and electrolysis. I would submit myself to lasers if I had the bucks. Heck, I would submit myself to Voo-Doo if I thought it would work….
The thing is, I do NOT have the time for all of this, and I don’t want to spend the time I DO have on this. Except that I don’t want to become the freak that everyone stares at and talks about behind my back. Like, “You know – that one mom with the freakishly hairy legs! Why on earth doesn’t she DO something about that?!” or “Did that woman have a moustache??” or “Watch out for Scary Wolf Woman who lives on the corner. They say she’s crazy.”
I figure there have to be other people out there in my same predicament, right?? So, I’m wondering who made the fashion rules? Men? Beautifully hairless women?? Why? WHY?? Why can’t we all just be happy with ourselves THE WAY WE ARE?? Who cares if we let our uni-brow grow? Why can’t we wax our moustaches into curly-q ends? So what if some stray hairs sprout out of our chins? Why does it matter if our legs resemble those of woolly mammoths?? We could ALL save some precious time here, people!!
So here’s my call: I am hairy! Hear me roar! Hairy women of the world unite! Only we can change the world – one abandoned tweezers at a time. Lay down that razor. Put away that hot wax. Proudly flaunt your neanderthal-ness! Do it TODAY.
Oh, who am I kidding? Sigh. That stray hair jutting out of my chin is driving me crazy. I’m going to find the tweezers I threw out the window.