This? Is my leg hair right now.
Sorry to make you run from the room screaming - nice ass, by the way - but let me explain. No, I'm not growing it out in anticipation of getting it waxed. No, I'm not growing it out just to see if I can braid it for giggles. The reason my legs rival Sasquatch right now is because the last, like, SIX times I've attempted to shave them, I get interrupted before I get the chance.
I'm an all-or-nothing kind of girl when it comes to my legs. No shaving just the bottom part; it's either ankle to hip smoothness or porcupine prickles. But it's hard to find enough uninterrupted time to properly de-fuzz. Curtis's work schedule conflicts with every decent opportunity I seem to have. And then there are situations like last night, when Curtis had put Colin and Cameron to bed and fallen asleep in their room. Coby was all but comatose in his bouncy seat, so I figured I had the perfect chance to shave. I put the baby's seat on the bathroom floor and got into the shower - and what do you know? Picking him up, carrying him into the bathroom, jostling him as I turned on the light and put him down, and turning on the roaring rush of shower didn't wake him ... but as soon as I put razor to leg, waaaaaaaaahhhhh! And I yelled for Curtis, but of course he sleeps like an earplug-wearing dead guy. So there you go. The leg hair remains.
I'm seriously thinking about tossing out my deodorant, letting my pits grow wild, and wearing dreadlocks and Birkenstocks and patchwork dresses and telling everybody that my rampant leg hair is just part of my new "earth-mother" look.
At least I give Colin something to aspire to - and hey, it's good birth control.