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I Will Never Stop Shaving
I do it for me.
It’s 2019, already, and women shouldn’t have to conform to suffocating patriarchal beauty standards anymore, I know. We shouldn’t have to be shamed for not putting up with the hassle that is shaving. As I once heard it, if a man wants to date a hairless creature, he can date a shark — its probably safer.
But the nice thing about feminism is the choice to do what makes you feel your best. For a lot of women, it means ditching razors for good, and that’s great. It is a hassle, and an expensive one, and I can appreciate the frustration so many of my sisters feel over it.
I, however, actually like shaving. For a number of reasons.
Ace before I ever realized it, I never shaved any part of my body to please anyone but my own self. If my SO at the time also happened to like it, it was a pleasant bonus, that was all. Aesthetically speaking, I’ve just never cared for the way my knees start to look like the heads of elephants after a few days. It weirds me out, personally, so I fix it. Simple as that.
There is also the matter of my mild hyper-sensitivity disorder. I don’t think its actually been diagnosed, possibly because it is so mild, but it is on a spectrum of things that turn your sense of touch into your super power. It makes shirt tags and sock seams literally painful. It makes chunky…
