I’m not really sure why I’m bored, but I am just the same.
It may be the heat. Despite my pleasure in the end of a very long winter, I’m not pleased that the weather is getting so warm, so fast. Because there’s no air conditioning here, and no screens on the windows which makes it hard for those of us who don’t appreciate having insects in our homes to get some cooler air.
I was thinking today about body hair. (I know, what segway?) Because we have it, and its ostensible evolutionary purpose is to keep us warm. But why do we still need it? Especially when it’s just so yucky (in general)?
I’m not really talking about men here, because in general I don’t care much if a man is hairy (well, okay, that’s not exactly true. I’ve noticed as I get older that my aversion to hairy chests has lessened, and I even like a little stomach hair now, but I still shudder at the memory of a man who came into the movie theatre where I worked in high school. He was wearing a tank top and I swear the man was furry. Long, thick tufts of fur–some brown, some gray–all over his shoulders and back. It was disgusting. Anyway.) No, I mean women. And specifically, women who don’t shave their legs or underarms or whatever.
Why? I just don’t get it. Sure, I’ve been lax about such things in the past. Sometimes I’m still lax now. But I never let more than a couple of weeks at the most go by, and that’s in the dead of winter when not even the hubs sees my legs (pajama bottoms.) And the rest of it–I’m fairly obsessive. It takes less than a minute to shave the underarms, come on!
I’m also a fan of depilatories–the Veet razorless stuff is what I’m using these days, it smells nicer than Nair and I love that little rubber razor thingie–and I’ve been known to wax at home on occasion, too, which wasn’t bad but didn’t last as long as I’d hoped it would. I might try it again with summer coming though.
What do you use? Men, what do you think of hairy ladies?
What other little Friday notes do I have? Oh, okay. When using a Pampered Chef Food Chopper to chop shallots, don’t ever, ever use your left index finger to pry a shallot out from between the blades, because your finger will bounce back up and you will slice it open and it will both bleed and hurt a lot. It’s especially not good to do this where your toddler will hear you and wander around the house chanting, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” for the next fifteen minutes before you manage to convince her that what you actually said was “Fump! Fubble!”
I miss my cheap Target flip-flops, that I bought for like $2. They were red.
And I guess that’s it. This has been a weird blogging week. Miss S is gone, now Sonya is leaving us. I blogged on Sunday but not on Monday so the week feels longer, and I didn’t have much to blog about either. Is it just summer coming, or is the whole world changing?