a hope design

On the importance of hair…or the lack thereof

In Life is Random, Relationships on December 14, 2011 at 10:36 am

Human beings were created/evolved (the word choice is yours) to come in pairs. It is human nature to want a companion in life. If you ponder your life, past and present, how much time is involved in seeking, enjoying or nurturing a relationship?

Those of us who are not currently involved in or pursuing a relationship have diverted our attention to another focus, denying the basic human need for companionship. For some, it is an easy task to occupy oneself with other things. It isn’t second nature for me.

I have had to create methods for tricking my natural instincts and muffling my hormones. I discovered that adjusting my level of girlieness via hair maintenance is a powerful tool.  Just as marriage counselors will tell you that increasing your feeling of sexiness will improve your sex life, so will DECREASING your feeling of sexiness KILL your sex drive…and your longing for a companion. Just call me Pavlov’s Bitch because, honey, it works!

Ditch the razor and bring on the granny panties.

Now, ya’ll know that 90% of this post is tongue-in-cheek. That leaves 10% cold, hard, scientific truth. That 10% is the part urging me to share this with you despite the fact that it will end any chance I have of attracting a man once I’ve paid off my bills and stopped working two jobs. This is just too good NOT to share for all my single ladies. I sacrifice my future social life for you, my dears!

It started off with cutting my hair to a manageable, stodgy shoulder-hovering bob. Everyone knows long hair is sexy. Men love it. Short hair is convenience. Not sexy. Not on me. Check!

Next, the legs. I hate having hair on my legs. This is why the method works. I went without shaving for…well, I’m not at the place where I can admit just how long…in order to push myself into that funky, I-don’t-want-anyone-to-see-me feeling. Nothing is so hormone dampening as hairy legs…except maybe a hysterectomy.

What turned out to be a method of distraction has now become a lack of time. Give up one time consumption and hundreds of other responsibilities creep in to fill the void. But even the practical me has limits. I couldn’t stand it any longer. Since the tropical rain forest on my legs had reached such a nice, useful length, I decided to try waxing. Overjoyed by the thought of going pajamaless in bed and feeling soft, silky skin rubbing the sheets, I proceeded with the waxing.

Forty-five minutes later, I had ONE 7″x3″ bare strip on my left leg…and it was time to go to work. Now THAT look, my friends, is the epitome of sexy.

Hell, no, I don’t want a man. I don’t have time to fix the train wreck that is my partially waxed sasquatch legs. I can’t bring myself to shave because the $10 box of wax is taunting me to try one more time and finish the job. Looks like I won’t be retiring the flannel pajama pants any time soon.

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