Hairy and Still Married
At the risk of destroying my reputation, I succumb to the truth that I AM a lazy shaver. I plan my wardrobes and shave accordingly. Capris? The razor stops just below the knee. Shorts? Mid thigh it is! Long pants? My ankles have never been smoother. Tank top? Armpits officially added to the check list. Any other length of sleeve? I take the night off.
I hear other women whisper about “my type.” I hang my head, tug the cuffs of my shorts, and try to hide my always chipping nail polish.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a good shave. If for no other reason than the hair removal magically makes my pants feel looser and I think I’ve lost weight. BUT. Some days I have to choose between shaving and ten more minutes of sleep; sleep always wins. Or I watch too much Oprah and feel empowered to rebel against the social pressure to shave. Or I eat too much humus and suddenly feel like armpit hair is the norm.
Lucky for me, I live in the Northwest. Nine months out of the year the Weatherman calls for rain, and I see long pants in the forecast. I take the blade to the ankles, and throw on a pair of boot cut Levis. But Summer means hours at the pool, and an extra 20 minutes in the shower with Island Breeze scented Shave Gel.
Last weekend, the forecast called for mid 80s. Probably the last 80s we will see until July of next year. I pulled out the Gillette and went to work. In the process I unearthed a small patch of hair I had missed. An ankle goatee of sorts, the length of the hairs indicated I actually missed the spot all year.
A couple of thoughts went through my mind upon the discovery. How long has that been there? Has anyone else seen it? All those women really were whispering about me. I almost removed it. Instead I jumped out of the shower and showed my husband. He laughed, and agreed I should leave it.
When we were dating, my husband never saw me ungroomed. Through our courtship my legs were always smooth, tinted with self tanner, and sparkling with shimmer lotion. Marriage changed everything. Now they only glow in January, and even then only under flourescent lights.
Some people don’t like that quality of marriage. The way that comfort creeps in and suddenly you aren’t trying to impress each other anymore. Some newlyweds gain a few pounds. I grew an ankle goatee.
I also didn’t shave it.
I bask in the comfort of marriage. Not because I don’t have to care, but because I know that someone cares about me . . .no matter what. I knew that my husband would not cringe nor gag at my long hairs, he laughed with me. I am fearless with him, because he sees my worst and still hopes the best. I stand firm with him, because he sees my weakness and offers me strength. I rest with him, because he sees my worth and knows its value.
At least once a day I stand in awe of my husband; aware of my short-comings (and long growings), he loves me still. Through my husband, I steal a glimpse at how God cares for me. How He knows the flaws on my ankle and flaws on my heart, and loves me deeply.
I can live strong, fearless, and with peace. I am well-loved.