and now, a word on my hair: “ew.” cuz if it’s awesome/sexy/cute/powerful, it isn’t hair—it’s fur. if it ISN’T awesome/sexy/cute/powerful, it’s hair. at least, those are the rules in my silly head. i don’t know why i think fur is inherently awesome while hair is inherently icky, but i totally do. fortunately, everybody who isn’t me seems to only grow fur. (see? i’m only judging myself. nobody else.)
as it turns out, while my partner grows fur on his legs—i grow HAIR on my legs. patchy, sparse, bristly HAIR. not thick and wiry enough to be awesome, but way too long to be invisible (and therefore differently-awesome). yes, i tried growing out my leg hair for the first time in ETERNITY. well, years, anyway. i let it grow til it stopped growing; i kept waiting for it to come in dark and thick and long and curly. alas, my leg hair did not oblige.
i think i’d stared at my sweetheart’s furry legs so often that i expected my legs to magically look like his (ka-ZAM!) if i stopped shaving them. i didn’t really think that one through.
so i shaved my legs in defeat, i rubbed some beeswax/olive oil mixture-of-awesome into my newly-shaven flesh, and i relaxed. cuz apparently, growing hair on my legs freaks me the fuck out. for something that happens naturally, it sure does feel wrong.
i suspect i’m just used to having softsoft legs for me to pet and rub together. rubbing my soft legs together is kinda my hobby. i’m totally doing it right now, actually! *rubs bare legs together* i think that’s part of why i will shave my legs til i fucking die.
the other part might be the patriarchy—who knows? i am mysterious. even if the patriarchy is in my head telling me that i have to keep my legs soft and hair-less—fuck it. i still get pretty upset when i let my leg hair grow.
anyway, the leg hair thing ended with me just shaving my legs and (ka-ZAM!) i was instantly cured of my malaise, but then i decided to get a fucking haircut. cue the dramatically tragic music!
i got a haircut (“fur-cut?”). yes. i looked weird. i couldn’t figure out how to make my new hair look all mx. punky (that means my hair wanted to lie flat rather than stand on end). i tried endless styling techniques/substances (including eggs!). i literally spent hours in front of the mirror trying to transform my hair into fur.
and meanwhile, i refused to leave the house. i refused to do anything other than try to “fix” my hair. (i’m really not proud of this, btw. at all. i have no idea how my sweetheart remained as composed and kind as he did.)
after days of drama, i finally realized that i could just style my hair the way i did before i got that fateful haircut (gel + bunning = wild mx. punk fur). and then everything was totally awesome and my sweetheart apparently didn’t want to kill me or anything (i deserved death, imo). so, yay?
i’ve come to the conclusion that my power is in my fur. seriously. i just wanted to tell you this story so you’d know how to defeat me in mortal combat; cut my fur. or drench it, thereby destroying my powerful locks.
that is all, lovelies.