a hair-braned misadventure

so, today i was working out a little bit, because sometimes i do that, and then afterwards i was stretching out, in order to be able to walk around tomorrow, and this brought my face in proximity with my naked leg. now, during the summer, the naked leg is not a frightening thing; you grow accustomed through familiarity. everywhere you walk, stand, or sit, there is your naked leg, or at least your naked calf, or at least your naked mid-calf-point-down-to-the-ankle (pants which i will admit are devestatingly cute on the skinny-legged, but for the rest of us, it cuts you off right at your fat point and draws all the attention there, and that's not what you want. I watch 'what not to wear'). and odds are, it's a (relatively) hair-free leg.

the naked leg during the winter is like that uncle who shows up every christmas, having put on a little more weight and forgotten to shave.

so today, as i sat stretching, i got a good, close look at my naked-below-the-gym-shorts leg. my first thought was 'ye gads! someone has replaced my leg with that of a man! a sparsely-haired man, to be true, but one who's lower limbs have certainly not met with a razor since that one time in college.'

and so then i went to shave in our stand-up shower (our real shower, with the tub, is broked), and slipped a few times, and got tired of suspending one leg in the air because there's no bathtubside to rest it on, and all my shaving foam kept rinsing off because there's nowhere to put your leg that's outside the stream of the shower, and then i cut myself and the foam all ran into it, and i hadn't rinsed out my conditioner yet, and that all ran into it, and i only got most of one leg and patches of the other cleared and that'll have to do.

and tomorrow, my legs will be cold, because the hairs really do keep you warm.