Trials and Tribulations of Being Female: Shaving Legs

Hairy legs. For women, not the fashionable accessory to have. In fact, if these particular appendages are hairy, said women will likely be subjected to snickers, comments, and overall disgust. Unless, of course, you live in France. (Can't have a blog about leg hair without a dig on France - it's against the rules).

Yet, it is a total pain to shave. First there's the process: wet the legs, lather up the legs (must have the right soap to ensure no burning or bumps), run the razor over the long expanse, rinse off the razor, do the next strip, rinse off, repeat however many times, rinse off the legs, checking for missed spots or blood, if there's a missed spot, re-lather, re-shave and if there's blood, getting it to stop is always fun, dry legs, lotion legs, and then you're done. For all of two days. Longer than two or three days and then the itching starts. Then the prickly little black stubs show through and G-d forbid a man run his hands over your legs in this state or he's likely to run screaming from the room (unless he's married and knows better than to piss his wife off like that -- he might still be encouraged to sleep on the couch though).

I realize many men shave daily and I'm sure it can be a chore. But they are not required by societal boundaries to shave. If a man has hair on his face, he is not subjected to scorn, ridicule, and general disgust. Therefore, women have it worse.

What brings this up you ask? I will admit it. It has been longer than three days and I'm wearing short workout pants in public. That's right, the little black stubblies are showing through and I can only pray that they aren't a beacon to look at me. In perusing my legs as I sit at my computer at work, I began to think about how often we must shave, how quickly we go through razors, all of that fun stuff. Then I can only be happy that there are no men running their hands over my legs (granted I would probably say this anyways as who knows when my dad or Grandma decide they want to start reading this thing, but it's sadly enough true -- I mean, it's fabulously enough true...).

Now I love being a woman, but these little trials and tribulations always make life fun. So the next time your friend, wife, sister, mom, whoever is a little cranky, don't blame it on pms...

Blame it on hairy monkey legs.