This afternoon while Eric was tirelessly toiling to fix our broken water pump, I was shaving 6 weeks of wildness from my legs. (In reality, this of course means my legs below the kneecaps.) I don’t know which one of us can boast a more productive, significant day!

The moment I felt the wind ruffle the delicate forest inhabiting each leg, I knew this experiment had died. It was the ripple of the feminist flag I felt on my calves, the only delay being razor acquisition. (Thanks for saving my life on this one, Bic.)

I realize I’m not doing well according to my original list of goals–“see how long my body hair can grow before I cave and shave”–but I think in my idealistic mind, I was planting too large of a garden. I’ve instead decided to scale back a bit, focusing my growing on one dedicated area (sorry, armpits) while relishing the harvest of the rest. For while I do want to live a simpler life, hanging out in my van, I’m not ready to embrace so many new lifestyles all at once.

… I also did not buy my razor second hand. (Yeesh.) Fail on all accounts. To which I say: No hair/don’t care.

Plus: WE HAVE WATER AGAIN! Thankyouthankyou, Eric. :*

-K