Fuzzy legs

Oh the woes of a girl. We all say how much easier it would be to be a boy. This is extraordinarily true. We could act like boys, but then we would be brutally judged and called some rather offensive names. Girls are viscous when it comes to appearance. That is why so many girls feel they always need to look nice. Over 75% of the time a girl isn't dressing up for a guy, no she's dressing up to compete with other girls.
Girls have so much pruning to do. Making sure all their facial issues are covered and their bodies hairless. This is where my predicament comes into play.

Shaving legs. Shaving my legs every(ish) day.

It's annoying and causes me to take long showers, only to realize after I get out of the shower a missed a spot, or to become very cold quickly making it pointless that I had shaven at all.

Waxing. Waxing my legs.

See I hate hair on my body. I like smooth silky skin, even if no one else is feeling it. Therefor I shave a lot. But I want to try waxing because I heard of all the benefits it does. Problem is in order to wax there must be hair on your legs. Not just some hair, at least 1/4 an inch if not more.

So here comes me, wanting to wax but loathing hair on my body. I must allow the hair on my legs to grow out.

I'm going insane.

I'm not sure how much longer I can deal with this fuzzy nonsense. How embarrassed I am when my leg hairs peak through at the end of my leggings or jeans. How at this moment my roommates lamp is making the hairs on my legs shine.

This must end.

But I must be strong.

Oh did I mention how weird it feels to have hairy legs in jeans. Not comfortable let me tell you. Not comfortable at all.

Distance

I haven't blogged in say, well I have chosen not to say because it is rather sad making. I just struggle when it comes to blogging without real purpose. If I have purpose behind it then I feel empowered and the words seem to just come. Blogging on my own though, well I don't want to sound like some juvenile lovesick teen. But I'm a writer. Blogging is healthy for writers. Therefor I must blog. So today what is on my heart is the fact that the spaces between my fingers are rather empty. I understand when people tell me at least I have someone who loves me and I get to spend my future with, but at the same time, how painful is it to know that I have someone that lights up my world yet I rarely see them because of the life of distance I chose and he chose. I know he is out there, miles away, and our little phones connect us. Tiny pixels form into letters. But these screens are not the soft skin of his hands. His words are nice, but they are nothing like the feel of his fingers brushing across my cheek or rubbing my stomach when I feel sick. I wouldn't trade our love for anything, but distance is torture. We have the hope of our future together, and the knowledge that life is better with each other in it than not at all. So for now I'll survive the distance, I keep to my day dreams about the day to come and I'll keep wishing on those shooting stars.