i stopped shaving.
i stopped months ago. initially i was just trying it out, since i had no good reason to do and it gave me 2 fewer things to pack for my semester abroad.
the hair on my legs is short and black and hard to notice.
unless i was in a bored bathing suit, no one ever saw my pubes peeking out from my underwear.
the only big difference was the pits.
this hair was a long way from being braidable, but when I was almost-alone I played with it often, and at least a few people expressed discomfort with this pleasure I took with my body.
having been inundated with the baby’s bottom smooth vision of womanly beauty, at first i took special care to keep my upper arm down, especially if in the presence of strangers/potential mates. then i kept telling myself that unless i felt my safety would be in jeopardy bad reactions to my armpits would just weed out people who probably aren’t worth my time and that I have limited fucks to give. i started to relax and love my pits.
when i got home, my mom did not love my pits. she told me that i had to shave and put on a bra. “because.” i politely refused.
i went to bed early today because i had a headache. when i awoke, my armpit hair was noticeably shorter. It burns. my mom shaved me while i slept.
she doesn’t exactly share my brand of radical/feminist politics, and I can’t get mad at her, but i am indignant. i am 20 years old; she has called me a almost grown woman herself. i did not think that she would violently infringe on my bodily autonomy like this again. but here i am venting to my computer screen, burned by the razor.
of course, classic backfire, this only makes me love my pits more.