Guest post by Nadia Morris
Not too long ago I was standing in a YMCA open gym, waiting in line for the mat to practice flips. I was chatting with a girl my age that claimed to be uncomfortably warm with all the physical activity we were doing. However, she wouldn’t take her sweats off and change into shorts because, as she confided in a hush, she hadn’t shaved her legs in a week and it was totally gross.
I sighed and shrugged off the pants I was wearing over my shorts, which revealed my legs, which vaguely resemble those of an adolescent wookie. “There,” I said, “feel better?”
‘Cause here’s the thing: I am a woman who does not shave her legs. This usually engenders a broad scope of reactions from other people, ranging from disinterest to approval to downright disgust. Despite the fact that the majority of people in my life really don’t care, I still take waaay more shit for it than I think I should have to.