Last month I spent some time with a guy I have a bit of history with and he basically told me that while I was very attractive, he likes girls who like to wax or shave, often. And a most miraculous thing happened. I felt nothing. Or, more accurately, I thought, “For you I’m supposed to put in that much effort? Fat chance.”
I didn’t think, “THIS IS SO INCREDIBLY EMBARRASSING!” which is exactly what High School Me would have thought before burrowing under the covers, putting on all her clothes plus a coat and hiding in the bathroom and crying.
I didn’t even think “I can do better” which is what One-Year-Ago Me would have thought.
This interaction was exactly what I had spent my entire post-pubescent life fearing and when it finally happened I felt a strange mix of apathy and self-confidence.
This is the way I like my body and if it isn’t the way you like it then I’m not gonna change it, but you can go find another one. Free country. No judgement. No harm, no foul.
Then I asked him if I could write about this and he said he’d be surprised if I didn’t. Ah, friendship.
Also, this. I know that people are allowed to have preferences about whatever they want. Just ask all the guys I didn’t date because they had short haircuts or perfect tiny noses or a habit of breathing on me, however, health, it’s important.
Sometimes it’s the strangest things that make you get over huge hurdles, or realize that you’re there already.