When I was getting dressed yesterday morning, I was quite proud of myself for remembering to shave my legs when I put a skirt on that showed my bare (albino-esque) legs. It's still March, a bit nippy and I'm not known for my cold-weather tolerance. All of this usually adds up to one big excuse to wear layers of skin-covering clothing late into the spring season, therefore enabling me to swear off leg-shaving unless it gets excessively jungle-like down there. In other words, until the leg hair starts interfering with sexy time. In even more other words, until I'm on the brink of being able to wear my leg hair in dreadlocks.
Anyhoodle, I found myself celebrating the early spring silky legs by prancing around in my business casual, client meeting heels... until I realized that I could feel the breeze more on my ankles than I could on the rest of my legs. And the reason for that was the feeling of movement. Yes, I had missed such a large spot of hair on both of my ankles that I could actually feel them waving proudly in the breeze with every step I took.
Throughout the rest of the day I giggled with the thought of someone walking closely behind me, stepping on one of them and tripping me. My mind is nothing if not exaggerative.