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Broke Wife, Big City
The Summer of
Aprill! (And Hairy Russian Bears!)
By Aprill Brandon
This summer, you guys. This is the summer. The summer I will think back
on when I’m old in rosy, golden, Instagram hues. Full of sunsets and
ice cream on the porch and ridiculous neon-colored cocktails. My
husband and I, still somewhat youthful and virile, our two children
still small enough to be enchanted with bubbles and sprinklers; all of
us just grabbing this summer by its humid balls and not letting go
until mid-September.
The summer of adventure!
The summer of picnics!
The summer of books!
The summer of road trips!
The summer of the sandwich because it is too bloody hot to cook!
Oh yes. This summer, you guys. I want each day to end with dirty faces
and even dirtier feet, piles of wet clothes and towels on the floor,
and then for someone else to clean it all up.
(Well, two out of three ain’t bad).
We even have an almost real vacation planned. Three whole days in a
tiny lakeside cottage in New Hampshire. In which the contents of our
cooler will consist of only grillable meat and booze. Because it’s the
summer of coolers full of grillable meat and booze!
Sigh. It’s going to be perfect.
Except.
Because of course there is an “except.” You wouldn’t be reading this if
there wasn’t an “except.” No one wants to hear about how happy people
are. Myself included. Gross.
So...
Except for one very important detail. And it’s the same detail pretty
much every summer. That torturous, barbaric act of beauty known as
having to shave on a regular basis. Legs, underarms, lady parts; not to
mention, a few other new and fun areas because I am now in my mid-30’s
and hair follicles are just springing up willy-nilly like a surprise
birthday party from Hell.
And I just. can’t. anymore.
Oh sure, having to de-hair my entire body roughly every other day for
four months straight might seem like a small thing in regards to the
Big Picture. I mean, there are people out there with Real Problems. But
when you are expected to be completely smooth and hairless and yet have
a body where your shins are sporting a 5 o’clock shadow no matter how
thorough you are in the shower, it can put a damper on the season.
See, I am one of those lucky women who is naturally *insert bad Eastern
European accent here* hairy like Russian bear. It’s dark. It’s thick.
It regrows at an almost illegal speed. I would survive well in the
Siberian wilderness.
I have to use men’s razors, y’all. And only then because using a weed
whacker seems ill-advised. And not just any men’s razors. The kind
with, like, six blades and descriptive words like “turbo” and
“titanium” and “also works for sad, hairy ladies.”
And every sunshiney morning, it’s the same thing. Dragging my stubbly
ass into the shower. Standing there dejectedly as the hot water rains
down. Looking at my titanium turbo double-edge sad hairy lady men’s
razor and sighing dramatically. Internally debating whether I can make
it one more day without shaving or will stories of local Sasquatch
sightings start popping up on the local news. Knowing deep down I have
to shave. Again. Then alternating between crying and launching into an
angry internal feminist rant about archaic beauty rituals meant to keep
women in their place.
And please don’t tell me the solution is to get waxed. I haven’t had my
hair cut in 18 months and am sporting a full-on Amish look currently
because I can’t get my life together enough to make an appointment at
the salon. Plus, I had both my children via cesarean and am kind of
done with having things brutally ripped from my body.
No, the only real solution here is to somehow convince society that
letting women have body hair is ok. Because it should be. Because it’s
ridiculous. Because I added it up. I roughly waste 74 hours of my
summer doing this awful ritual and for what? It serves no real purpose.
It’s not like I’m trying to win an Olympic gold medal in swimming.
I get why Michael Phelps has to shave his whole body. I don’t get why I
have to. *grumpily crosses arms*
So, what do you say, society? Huh? Hairy women? All of us in our
natural state! Let’s do this! Viva la revolucion!
Anyone? No? Hello? Sigh.
Fine.
*grabs scythe and heads back into the bathroom*
Can’t get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until next week?
Check out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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