Because I'm too lazy.
Because it's just cheaper not to.
Because my girlfriend likes it.
Because I can.
That last one seems like more a manifesto than it's meant to be. It's not like it's an anarchy thing. It just is what it is: I don't shave my legs. I have my reasons. Razors & shaving cream can get hella expensive so not shaving seems like a no-brainer for saving money. The fuzz doesn't bother me or my girlfriend either, so that's a plus. I'm also stubborn about it: I just flat out don't want to shave. The thought of spending extra time scraping off every last hair from my calves & fretting over their growing presence (no pun intended) stresses me out. Even though I have a casual attitude about my leg-sweaters, I do get some flack from others. I've gotten looks when I wear shorts & even some questions. My favorite questioning always comes from one of Heather's young nephews, who insists that I am definitely "not supposed to let hair grow there." I'm okay with the judgement - I'd take that over having to shave my legs any day.
It's not like rejecting silky-smooth legs is a proclamation of my rights either, even though that's how it all started. I was fresh out of high school when I began letting my hairy little friends blow free in the wind. All the ladies in my circle of friends were allowing their body hair to exist au naturel, throwing scowling faces at those who dared glance their way. I thought this was what I wanted too. Eff the man, right? Who were we to let beauty magazines & cultural norms determine the look of our bodies?
Over the years I've gone back & forth with the whole shaving thing, though. If I was with someone who shaved their legs, I thought perhaps my leg hair would also make them uncomfortable. In spite of all of my previous confidence in my choice not to shave, I was still insecure about my body.
As I've gotten older I've realized that there's a giant difference between choosing not to care what others think & actually not caring about what others think. Being okay with myself & my looks started with choosing to accept myself & then having that choice challenged. Each time my decision was tested it got easier, & eventually the action of choosing dissolved. I don't have to choose to care how others perceive me & my looks. I just don't anymore.
Me & my legs have found a good rhythm now. While they remain in their fuzzy state most of the time, I will sometimes shave if I think an outfit will look better with smoother legs, or if I'm feeling impulsive. But I never feel pressure to shave. I just let my legs do their thing, while they let me do mine.
|Bonus pic of Heather's adorable gams.|
So, do you ever let your legs go rough? Even if it's just for the winter? Let me know your thoughts in the comments.
Related // This isn't the first time you've seen my hairy uprights.