pirate legs.

A couple of years ago, I was eating lunch with some people at my old job. We were sitting on the patio of the giant office building where we worked, taking up two or three tables as we munched on cafeteria food. Across the way sat a woman at a table by herself, reading a book while poking at a salad. I was casually observing her, sizing her up and inventing a life story for her based on her clothing choices. I was thinking about her aloneness, and how few people you see eating alone.

"What do you think about people when you see them eating alone?" I ask a coworker, gesturing to the lady with the book and the taco salad (it must have been a Wednesday). I asked because I knew what I thought about people who ate alone, but I had the sneaking suspicion that other people did not think the same way. It's been a long hard road, discovering that other people think differently than I do.

"I think they're lonely and sad."

That's what I was afraid of. Here's what I think of people who eat alone: I think they're cool and brave. Because I eat alone sometimes, and I used to do it pretty often. I always felt self-conscious, sometimes only a little but other times quite a lot. I thought that other people would look at me and think that I was lonely and sad. In truth, I was not lonely and sad. I had friends, but sometimes I happened to not be near any at mealtimes and sometimes I just needed the solitude.

And so I think that people who eat alone are cool and brave, because they have the confidence to be by themselves in public, because I like to be by myself in public but don't always feel confident about it, because those people know that other people think they are lonely and sad. Every time I see someone eating alone, I feel like they are taking a stand for tables for one everywhere. They reaffirm my belief that I have the right to eat by myself if I want to, and that it's totally okay.

I feel the same sort of way about shaving my legs. You did not see that coming. I have taken segues to new heights today.

I have mostly gotten over eating alone, because I've been doing it for so long. But the hairy legs are a new test to my confidence. Since I moved to Raleigh, I've pretty much stopped shaving my legs. Most of the time it's not an issue, because I just wear pants. But sometimes I want to wear a skirt or even shorts. I hate to shave: it's inconvenient, unnecessary, and the results don't last very long at all. The stupid rules of modern American society say that women should have smooth legs. I don't want to play by those rules, but I don't want to be left out of the game either. I'm not trying to make a statement or give society the middle finger. I just don't like shaving my legs, and I believe in my right to not do it.

Given a different set of chromosomes, it might be easier for me to get away with forgoing the razor. But I was not blessed with fine, light-colored hair. No, my leg hair is thick, coarse, and black. Any guy would be proud to sport leg hair like that, if guys ever think about such things. Mine could be the legs of a swarthy pirate. So if I am making a statement, it's certainly a bold one. Underlined, even.

Sometimes I make myself wear shorts, just to prove that I can, just to put my own beliefs to the test. I went through two whole seasons of adult league volleyball without shaving once. All my teammates certainly noticed and thought that I was just the kind of girl who didn't go for the smooth look. They probably had no idea that I was hyper aware of every little hair. But then I had to go to a wedding last fall, and the thought of baring my pirate legs in front of girls from my high school was just too much for me. I dusted off my razor, grumbling about society and norms during the half-hour bath. Then I sighed as I admired how nice legs can look and feel when they're not covered in coarse black hair. I felt like a natural woman. Also a bitter one.

I understand that this is really my issue, and blaming it on arbitrary standards of beauty is just being defensive. Yes, the idea that women should have smooth legs is determined and propogated solely by society. But that's the way it is. Railing against it won't change a thing. So if I want to go my own way, I have to be strong enough to deal with the thought of people judging me. I have lots of self-confidence and usually have no problem at all being different from others. Maybe it's because I have that confidence in other areas that it frustrates me so much to not have it with regards to pirate legs. Worrying about what strangers are thinking about me all the time is demoralizing and distracting. I hate to be so susceptible to it. It makes me doubt myself completely: I've never been eccentric or free-thinking at all! I'm just another razor slave!

I have no conclusions here. I may someday get over being the hairy woman that I am or I may start buying stock in Gilette. Or maybe I will develop a rare disease where the only symptom is that all my leg hair just falls out and never ever grows back. There need to be more diseases that solve personal inner turmoil.

But here's a thought that I had while considering that woman eating alone with her book one day in Winston-Salem. Seeing her reaffirmed what I already knew, but still felt self-conscious about: it's okay to be by yourself. So maybe the next time I take my pirate legs for a walk, I will inspire someone else who thinks shaving is a huge waste of time. They will think that I am cool and brave.