I don't remember how old I was when I started shaving my legs. I do remember that I started tweezing my eyebrows in high school because I have a picture of me from prom with the "McDonald arches," yikes!
My daughter the tween had been asking to shave her legs in 6th grade and I would respond "Is it something you want to do right now or can it wait until summer?" She said she could wait. That was until a week ago. She reminded me and again asked if she could shave her legs. A part of me wanted to keep her my little girl. The baby we called "wolfie" when she was born because she had a full head of hear and hair on her earlobes (which has since disappeared).
She asked me as I was washing dishes. I am always washing dishes. I asked her to wait until I was finished. As she walked away, she said under her breath "I hate the boys teasing me about my hairy legs." Damn those boys! How can one comment from the male species make you start feeling insecure. Needless to say, I put my sponge down and asked her to follow me to the bathroom.
I opened my drawer and pulled out a new razor, grabbed the shaving cream and looked her straight in the eye. "Are you sure you want to do this? Once you start, you can never go back." "I'm ready mom." I took a deep breath and began to put the shaving cream on her legs. I told her I would shave one leg and she would have to do the other. "Take your time because if you nick yourself, it hurts. Are you sure?" "Yes mom."
I don't remember my mom showing me but I was glad to share this moment with my "wolfie." I want her to tell her friends "I love my mom, she is cool." (who am I kidding?)
She did it. Her legs are smooth and a piece of me cried inside.
And so it begins...these changes of life.
Tito, hand me a tissue.