Opaque, please
I was at the salon, having my brains fried, when I vaguely heard someone entering through the front door. I looked over at the woman who was coming in the salon, not because I expected to know her, but because I'd finished my book and had gotten stuck with nothing to read but the salon's copies of Jane Magazine. Ugh. So I looked at the woman who had just walked in, and she was just the embodiment of the word awkward. She was tall and large - not fat - and looked ill at ease in her own body. She hunched over a bit, and wasn't quite steady in her slingbacks. Actually, she sort of reminded me of a linebacker in drag. The woman passed me to get to the shampoo station, and then I stopped paying attention to her.On my way out, I passed her sitting under the dryer, where it was her turn to get her brains fried. As I put on my sweater and prepared to leave, I happened to look at the woman again. I got a better look at her, and sort of wished I hadn't. Her legs, where she was wearing white, transparent stockings, were in serious need of a shave. Now don't get me wrong; it wasn't because she was a woman. I'm just not a fan of hairy legs. To paraphrase one of the recappers at Television Without Pity, I believe that the fight against body hair should waged by men and women alike.
But really, if she didn't want to shave her legs, which is obviously her right, couldn't she have at least spared people like me, people who have nothing better to do with their mornings than to wish that other people had shaved their legs, simply by wearing opaque stockings? And anyway, it's November in New Jersey. Isn't it a bit cold for sheer hose?
I'm just saying.
