The other day I was talking to a girlfriend at work about the usual stuff a person discusses at work: underwear and personal grooming. We discovered that we both have similar sad trombone thoughts along the lines of “no one will be noticing so why bother?”
Cue the Eeyore theme music.
I immediately messaged Chelle and made sure she knows that she needs to take me to the vet and have me put down if I stop shaving my legs. Yeah, yeah, you all-natural hippy chick types can stop shaving if you want. You can be as down with the Goddess and female empowerment as y’all want. You can wear diva cups and howl at the moon during a menstrual drum circle if it makes you happy. I applaud your awesome naturalness, but I want certain of my body parts to be relatively smooth. If I stop shaving my legs, that is a sign that I might as well lay down somewhere like a sick beast and let myself die in the woods like a lovesick girl Sasquatch.
I am not being overly dramatic. I am using exaggeration to make a point. Nuance. Hush up.
I am also not willing to engage in a spirited discussion about why shaving any of my body parts is submitting to the Man. They are MY body parts, and no one gets to decide if they are smooth or hairy except me.
Plus I have already talked a lot about pubic hair recently in the blog. I don’t want people to get tired of the subject.
Plus? Submitting? Not all bad.
A little off topic though.
Where was I? Oh, yes–underwear.
The other part of the discussion was about cute underwear and bras. A subject dear to all of our hearts, yes? I wonder if men have any idea how expensive it is to clothe the breasts that they are so fond of? If you are on a pre-divorce budget, a good bra is not something you can just buy on a whim. Sad. Then again, it’s not like anyone will see them, so does it matter?
Yes. Yes, it does. I see them.
I don’t care how much the sad trombone blows. I am not going to wear tattered underpinnings. I am not. Even if no one sees them, I am too vain. Plus, bad bras make my boobs sad. I don’t need sad boobs. I don’t.
So I guess I know what I will be buying with my bonus: new bras, a fancy leg shaving device and some Crystal Head vodka.
Not necessities, you say?
Perhaps not, but skulls make me happy. Smooth legs make me feel like I might have a tiny bit of sex appeal left. New bras uplift my mood almost as much as my breasts.
And I don’t care if you think it is weird, or if you would spend your money in a different way.
If you argue about it, I will throw in a new pair of red shoes and a $60 candle.
Don’t make me do anything drastic.