Restored by a razor

Clean freshly shaven legs.  One imagines the very world can be conquered when the weight of a thousand tiny stubbles is lifted from our feminine lower limbs.  Energetic, we stride, smooth-legged into our worlds again.  Restored by a razor.  Only lotion can give us a further edge up on the world.  We are invincible.  We do not walk, we glide, we float. In the early morning light – post shower, suddenly we feel eager to fill planners and mark off to-do lists.  We pick up each extra dust bunny we pass as we stride the halls, readying young progeny for school.  We type quickly into our phones and computers, multi-tasking our way through breakfasts and the mundane packing of lunches.

On these mornings, our ideas are golden.  Our bodies tireless.

We do not shave our legs to meet the world’s standards of beauty.  It’s not meant to please our husbands or assorted other men in our lives.

No, we do it because the very act renders us goddesses.  Untouchable and inspired.

I save my shekels for laser hair removal.  Oh to feel that powerful each and every day.  Or would I?  Without the feeling of the slow build up of prickles, the darkening of small hairs across shins and ankles, perhaps I would not experience the effervescent magic of it’s removal.

I think I’ll take my chances.

And brave the laser.

 

 

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