Female 5 o’Clock Shadow

To all of those who read my blog, you are well aware that I bask in the glory of being a woman. I love sparkles, and pink, and makeup, and heels. I take advantage of having boobies whenever the opportunity is afforded me.  That being said, I have one ginormous gripe about being a woman. The expectancy of shaven legs.

I fucking hate it. I think that shaving my legs is the biggest waste of time. When I add up in my head of how many dollars I have spent on razors, shaving gel, etc., I become so enraged that there is an immediate threat of fatal razor laceration to anyone who is near.

Since I had the joy of hitting puberty at an extremely early age, I have gotten to enjoy this complete wastage of time for over 20 years. Luckily, I have come far from the early days of leg shavage; no longer do my legs sport the nicks and cuts of the inexperienced butcher with a Bic; no, no. I now weild my over-priced Venus with the skill of a seasoned warrior. There is no greater thrill than having to take an hour long shower to rid myself of the repulsive hair on my gams that God gave me.

Of course there has been the occassional week or two without proper hair expungetion. How mortified has the unlucky man been who has had the misfortune of running his hand up my leg at those times. Since I already am not getting the naked fun time I desire of 3 times a day, I am forced to shave my legs every day in order to not further alienate my Rockstar.

At this time, I will cannot even go into detail of the more intimate hair removal that is required of women nowdays, as I am too upset over having yet again wasted 10 minutes of my shower time. If it shall go on like this, there is a chance I may have to take more serious measures. Like electrolosis.