Fiona Hughes was a student in Beloit College professor Chris Fink's creative writing capstone class this past semester.
In high school gym class, a boy saw my bare legs and fake-gasped loud enough for the whole class to hear. The teacher ignored it. I did too — but I wish I hadn’t.
There was nothing shocking enough about my legs to make him gasp. I just don’t shave. It scares off high school boys, for one thing, but that’s not why I do it. I just hate the effort.
Most women I know don’t actually like shaving. My friends celebrate when winter comes because then they can wear pants and not shave. My mom’s told me before that if she had the money for Lasix to fix her terrible vision, or to have laser hair removal on her armpits, she’d pick the pits. She says she hates how itchy they get. Then don’t shave, I say. You don’t have to. She just sighs and says “yes, that’s true, but still.” I think she doesn’t like that I point out that it’s a choice.
When I see a woman’s bare legs, I have a lot of questions. How many hours of her life did she spend removing it? How much money? How many times has she accidentally cut herself since she was a little girl? After a few years of wasting my time, money, and blood, I weighed my answers and I decided: Enough.
There’s only one question people have about my hairy legs, once they get the courage to ask. “Why don’t you shave?” The answer varies, depending on my mood, but it’s the same truth in the end. It’s your choice. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.
I’m Fiona Hughes, and that’s my perspective