Smooth, Shaved Legs and an Unexpected Family Visit
A few weeks ago, I wrote about my intent to continue shaving my legs through the spring and summer. This will be a first for me, and I am excited, if not also just a little bit nervous, about the prospect. Although it is still early in the season, I have remained true to my word thus far, and have diligently maintained smooth and hair free legs.
This spring, however, has been unseasonably warm, if not downright hot at times. As such, the opportunity to wear shorts has presented itself more often than not. Although I was hopeful that I would be able to gradually work myself back into society with feminized legs, I have not shied away from the moment. I have worn shorts whenever possible, and whenever the opportunity has presented itself. In this, despite how insignificant it may ultimately be, I am determined to make a stand. I like the way my legs look and feel after I shave. I enjoy the femininity that my legs mirror and portray. I am proud of my legs, and shall display them for all the world to see, if the world so desires to take notice.
This is not to say, though, that I do not occasionally worry about what others may think or say. When I first began shaving during shorts weather last September, a couple of friends of mine did call me on the carpet and asked about my legs. I believe I handled the situation well, I responded to the inquiries, and life miraculously (but somehow predictably) continued on.
Regardless of my change in attitude over maintaining hair free legs, I must admit, though, that the thought of exhibiting my bare legs around my parents has, until just recently, scared the crap of me. I know, I know, I know - I am 42 years old, I am a grown adult, they are my legs, and I should be able to do with them as I please. If someone does not approve, that is not my problem, it is their problem. But my parents are my parents. My father, in particular, did his damnedest to raise me as a masculine manly man. Obviously, his attempts did not work out so well, but I digress . . . .
Still, the thought of presenting my denuded legs around my parents has caused me no small amount of discomfort, and is not something I have been looking forward to.
But the thing about hair removal is it is a commitment. Once it is done, it is done. It is not like you can grow the hair back in overnight. It just doesn't work that way. Committed is as committed does. And this is where I quite unexpectedly found myself last week - committed beyond the point of no return.
With but a day's notice, I found myself down south with my parents, sisters, uncles, aunts, nieces, nephews, and cousins for several days. Family members came from all over, some of whom I had not seen or visited with in many years. Lo and behold, though, the temperatures were in the mid to high 80s throughout the entirety of my stay. Except when inappropriate, I wore shorts the entire time.
Admittedly, it was not always easy to do so. I had moments where I almost shied away, gave in, and wore pants. But I didn't give in. Instead, I persevered, and all but welcomed a comment or two be thrown my way about my legs. No comments were forthcoming, though. If anyone noticed, nobody said a word. At least not to me. Even moreso, if some did take note, I was not treated any differently than I otherwise would have been. In this, I was not judged. I was not ridiculed. I was not scorned. I was not made fun of. I was not cast aside. Instead, I was just another member of a kind, loving, and supportive family. Just another member of my family. And just another family member that just so happens to have some amazingly hot, long, good looking legs, but I digress yet again . . . . :heehee:
Of course, being family, loving one another, and simply supporting each other are some of the most basic and important characteristics of a family. In the face of what it ultimately means to be family, worrying about whether a cousin, parent, uncle, aunt, or sibling notices whether one's legs are nice, smooth, and feminine, in the grand scheme of things, is not really an insurmountable or consequential concern at all. At least, having overcome my discomfort and worry around my family about my legs, this is the lesson I have taken from this rather small yet important self-victory . . . .
