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One of the Many Reasons

posted by BatSheva Vaknin @ 9:05 AM
Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Listen, it’s not the ONLY reason I love my husband.

There are so many things I love about him: his fierce love for his family, his deep certainty and commitment to spirituality, his strength, his love of tackling obstacles…

And, you know… underarm hair.

Ew! Not HIS!

Um… mine.

Okay, let me start over.

My husband thinks it would be completely alright by him if I didn’t shave my legs. Or underarms.

Mind you, I said “would be” because no matter what he may think about it, I happen to despise the look of monkey hair growing out of my legs or pits, so as long as I’ve got access to a good, spermy razor… This girl will stay clean-shaven.

I also love, by the way, that he doesn’t dwell on it, like some earthy Frenchman begging me to go “au naturel” because that would gross me out too, I mean come on, I grew up in the 80′s, hello!?!

But as a Grownup Girl of a certain age, and by ‘certain’ I mean I’ve gotten to that age where I’m no longer certain how old I am but I’m pretty sure I’m not 28 any more, I find enormous comfort in living with a man who would be perfectly happy with me as his beloved ape-wife if the desire ever struck me to go down that path.

Along these lines, I also take great comfort in my husband finding me attractive even without the magic of a pushup bra. I do have a fear of surgery so I’m not sure I’d get a boob job even if I was married to a man who REALLY wanted me to… but it’s possible that I would. I mean, not that my breasts don’t look EXACTLY LIKE A VICTORIA’S SECRET MODEL, OBVIOUSLY! But if, somehow, after nursing 4 kids, they didn’t…

I’m just glad I don’t feel pressure from Aharon to do something to my body I’m not into doing.

Unlike elective surgery, I’m very pro dying my hair. So when the other night as I was dying my hair (not that I have any gray, I just was changing the color, but let’s say for the sake of this blog it is POSSIBLE that I also was covering some pigmentally-challenged follicles) & he said “You should just let your hair go gray…”

I think I either laughed really hard or stood still in stunned silence.

Folks, I’m a California Grownup Girl living in a California world. My hair is not gray, my pits & legs are smooth, and my breasts are fantastic.

But if they weren’t…

It’s lovely to know I’m married to a man who wouldn’t give a damn.

cx/o,

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

This is an ACTUAL picture of me when I don't dye my hair. (In my husband's imagination. Which is where it will stay.)

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