My husband threatened to not come home from work tonight if I didn't shave my legs.
I don't know what the big deal is. It's only been almost three weeks. It's not that bad. It's not curling yet.
But the hair is getting nice and soft. It's not all pokey anymore.
I've had better things to do. Namely: sleep. Or eat. Shaving just isn't high on my list of priorities right now. It's ranking right around housework these days. Except no one sees my legs except me and him, so it actually may rank lower than housework.
He doesn't realize that when it's been this long, it's not a "jump in the shower and do a quick shave." It's a major undertaking that - at this point - will probably cost me two razors.
But I think I may oblige him.
Not because I want to make him happy, but because I want to wear some summery clothes. And I'm tired of wearing pants to church.