This weekend I stayed with friends.  It was a hot day in brooklyn and we did lots of walking, and went back to their place to cool down and watch world cup mid-afternoon.  The lady of the couple took a shower when we got back and I was surprised to find out that she had shaved her legs during that mid-day rinse off.  Yes, just causually whipped out a razor and gave her legs a good shaving.

What? What? You just do that casually?  I never do that.  My legs are a hodge-podge of lawnmower like strips.  Hair gets whacked off when I have a little panic, like: eek going to the beach with P’s family, I better hack back the undergrowth! Or I realize, eek I’m wearing a tank top, and I haven’t shaved my pits in a week. I gotta try to remember to shave them next time I’m in the shower.  Or, I’m in the car on a trip with P and I have my feet up on the dashboard and the summer sun catches all the hair on my legs, turning it golden, and I think: ooh pretty! Oh wait! No, bad! Hippy girl go home and scrape that off!

So at times like these I look at my hairy legs, and think: Alright Sara, lets try to shave the legs once a week for the summer. . . Or is that being unfeminist, and should I just chill about it?