I hate shaving my legs. Once I got past the age of 12, when I begged my mom to let me, I then discovered that it was a ridiculous ritual. Sociology then taught me all about social constructs, but even that knowledge hasn't allowed me to stay "au naturelle" for very long. Even I cave in and shave every few weeks - yes weeks, not days. Of course, now that I live in Hawaii, I can't even take the winter off...I am fortunate to have blonde hair, so the hair on my legs is fair and fine and only really noticeable when you are close to me.
But, the day my husband couldn't stop lauging at me is what I came to share. We had just gotten back from work. I was wearing a skirt, and there was a gentle breeze that evening. I was reaching into the back seat to get the baby out of the car seat, when I felt something crawling up my leg. I jumped, screamed and danced around, certain it was a spider. The light creepy, crawly feeling went away, so I bent back down to get her out of the seat. The breeze blew through my skirt and the spiders were back! It was at that time that I realized the hair on my legs was swaying in the breeze. My husband almost fell off the porch and I was mortified. Needless to say, I shaved that night. I think it took me an hour to trim down the forest that had cropped up when I wasn't looking.
The saddest part, is that it has happened again. But at least I didn't think it was bugs crawling all over - I knew right away it was my hairy legs.