|I'm SUPPOSED to be the one on the right.|
Reader, I am sure that you are not surprised to learn that I fall into that latter category.
Yes, from the groin down I am as furry as a goaty little Satyr.
And I have been fluffy ALLLLL winter.
I do envy those girls who keep themselves plucked and smooth just in case they:
a) have to show more of their legs than me (I only need to expose the inch between the top of my ankle sock and up the inside of my jeans)
b) are whisked away to somewhere warm for an unexpected holiday (I myself have been no further than the Isle of Man in 2011 and even then I still kept my jeans on). I have not worn shorts since Mrs Steele's gym class in 1979.
c) Get a chance to have a shag with someone who cares a jot whether their...shagee... got smooth legs (yes, well, I'll just draw a veil over that particular issue)
This morning as I was getting ready for the gym (see: massive t-shirt that should really be housing a family in a refugee camp somewhere, yoga pants that have never darkened the surface of a yoga mat) Tartarus remarked that my nethers seemed to have 'escaped' the confines of my Big Pants in much the same way as clump of weeds might surreptitiously take-over a flower bed without you noticing. To be perfectly honest, it's now At One with my hairy legs :-) I know. I sound like a DELIGHT to be close to. But the heating is OFF most of the time in our house - it's a heat-retention technique *cough*
Now, just to clue you in, Tartarus is so hairy that he has to make an informed decision of a morning about where his cut-off point is on his neck before he starts shaving or he'd be standing there de-fluffing all day. And even when he does shave, it grows back at Homer Simpson speeds.
What can I say about his back? Naked, it's like Tartarus is wearing a mohair suit.
So you can imagine, him making a comment about the state of my down-belows was a fairly risky thing to do.
I was juuuuuust about to tell him that the day he gets hot wax slathered on his own 'welcome mat' would be the day that he could start telling me what to do with mine.
Instead, I took a look down at the poor fluff that I'm always ripping out and suddenly felt quite sorry for it: 'You know what? I think it could do with a wee tartan bow and some glitter.'
PS - have saved about £100 in waxing costs *punches air*