Shaving

Shaving. I hate it. Yep, I really do.

Oh sure, I like hairless legs and pits as much as the next person. What I'm not loving is the never ending process of hair removal. It's like dishes and laundry... no matter how much you do it, you'll never be done. Unless you're rich and can hire someone to remove said hair permanently. For those of us buying disposable razors from Walmart, well, we're clearly not looking at permanent hair removal. It's best to just hunker down for a long ride.
First of all, why do we shave? I mean, I'm pretty sure that when God created our bodies he did so with purpose. So, hair on our legs shouldn't be messed with... right? (Okay, I don't need your attitude about appendixes right now!)

But, really, in this country of therapists and new-agey vulnerability, it shouldn't surprise me that society tells us to pour hot wax on our bodies and strip off our primitive protection. Just sayin'

Now, assuming you've been brought down by peer pressure - like me - you begin shaving to fit in. You want to be able to catch yourself a mate and no one likes to be surprised in the night by a prickly bed partner.

So, we find ourselves on yet another Sunday morning, weighing out the odds between wearing nylons and shaving. We finally decide to throw poor hubby a bone and shave them. Now comes the hard part.- First I have to decide which of the 15 razors laying on the shower floor is the most recent acquisition, thus slightly decreasing my chances of an ER visit.

-Next I have to turn in circles while deciding where is the least risky place to sit.

-Then I lather up and get to work. (On a side note, I'm wondering which mystery of science made it so that when the rest of my body got chubby, my shin bones stayed nice and poky?! I'm pretty much guaranteed a cut on the shin during shaving. In fact, I'd say it's a modern-day miracle that my shin bones don't have potholes!)

- After nicking and scratching and removing hair I'm forced to sit still so the blood can run down the drain rather than drip on my nicely cleaned floor (loving the imagery?) Anyhow, once the entire process is complete I feel like - despite what medical professionals and people named Steve Hadley may say - I've shaved off any type of tan I may have gotten over the week and I'm back to pasty white. No, make that pasty-white with scabs. It's very discouraging.

I'm thinking maybe I should move to some country where shaving is out and hairy is in!

Do you think there's any place where women with chin-hair are welcome?