Familiarity breeds contempt, but is that really true? Familiarity can become a wonderfully reticulated universe where you have the opportunity of making in depth explorations of both the physical and mental topography of the human being that is most proximate to you.
The Style section of the Times ran a piece on "Woman Who Dye Their (Armpit) Hair," (NYT, 7/14/15) The piece began with a priceless quote from 17 year old Destiny Moreno of Seattle who dyed her armpit hair Voodoo Blue courtesy of Manic Panic.
We're so used to its erasure in advertising, film and television that its absence is somewhat realistic: women don't have body hair, we're told. So when it's missing -- even in the most unlikely scenarios -- we don't even notice.
My little hiatus from shaving has been awesome. I've learned some new things about myself, engaged in some substantial, thoughtful dialogue with many peers, and got to play around with some social norms.
Women have hair on their legs. We have hair on our armpits. And on our pubis. And in a thousand other places. We're hairy, the same as men. And that's real. A reality that women, pressured by one another, insist on hiding.