I Shaved My Legs Today

It's a beautiful day today, and of course it always helps that it's Friday. It's been a long week, and I've just gotten home from my Spanish class, worn out and exhausted. But there's one thing that's keeping me from pulling on the sweats, plopping down in front of the TV, and shoveling popcorn into my mouth, and, of course, it has to do with a boy.

I fling my purse and laptop carrier bag onto a nearby chair as I pound down the stairs to my room in the basement to pick out an outfit. I dig through my drawers and a laundry basket full of clothes that I haven't had the time to put away this week. It's too warm for jeans, and sweaters are definitely not an option. The fact that I have also not had the time to bring out my summer clothes and pack up my winter clothes has become increasingly annoying.

Placing my hands on my hips, I sigh exasperatedly, scanning the growing pile of clothes once more. Finally, I decide on a pair of capri khakis that have a cinch tie at the knee, a favorite t-shirt from high school, and (finally!) a pair of flip flops. Glancing at my selection, however, I notice the fluke in my plan. I stare down at my legs, which are covered by my last clean pair of jeans at the moment, and I think to myself, 'When's the last time I shaved my legs?'

It certainly wasn't Easter. I had to work, thus eliminating the opportunity to wear a skirt, whilst also giving me a reason not to shave. Certainly it can't have been longer than that since I last shaved my legs.

But then again it has been a long winter. And, being cold-phobic, I haven't exactly been parading around in shorts or capris. And between school and work, sprinkled with the lame excuse of a social life and no boyfriend, who really has the time or the motive? Sure, there's the opportunity to shave in the shower every morning, but when your shower is a small, claustrophobia-inducing cubicle in a basement harboring subzero temperatures, one doesn't exactly want to take their sweet time.

But now that it's April, I'm through making excuses. The days are longer and brighter, and eventually I'll get to a point where I don't want to see another pair of blue jeans sitting in my laundry basket. And of course, there is also the fact that I'll be out in public...wearing capris.

I'd better shave today.

I pile my chosen garments on my already cluttered desk, pick a CD, grab a towel and walk over to the shower area. I turn on the water to the desired temperature (warm, always warm), put the CD in the stereo that's in the corner of the basement adjacent to the corner with the shower, crank the tunes, shed the clothes, and jump in the shower.

Twenty minutes later, I emerge from the shower, squeaky clean and rejuvenated. My hair is plastered to my head, except for the ends which have already started to curl into tight ringlets as they rest on my shoulders. I gently squeegee my hair with my towel before wrapping it around myself, grabbing my clothes, and heading upstairs to the warm bathroom. I dry off quickly, get dressed, scrunch up my curls with tons of anti-freeze serum and grab a bottle of lotion. I lift my right leg up and place it on the edge of the bathtub, admiring my handiwork. While my legs aren't my most favored features, they look much better than how the were before. And much smoother.

Just as soon as I'm finished putting lotion on my legs, my phone buzzes on the vanity; announcing that I have a new text message. I flip open my phone and read: 'I'll be there in 5 minutes. Be ready.' Closing my phone, I dash down the stairs, slip on my pink loafers, get my purse and camera ready and stand by the door, keeping an open eye out for my friend. Finally she arrives and I clamber out the doorway, quickly slamming the door behind me, and bound off the porch as I run across the street and hop into the passenger seat of my friend's car.

Glancing at me with a raised eyebrow, my friend observes, "Someone's had a few hundred cups of coffee today."

"Don't be absurd, Liz. I've only had 50," I retort, smiling playfully.

Liz rolls her eyes and begins driving in the direction of our destination: our friend Jenny's apartment, where our friend Jessie is already waiting for us, along with the boy we are journeying to meet. The boy for whom I shaved my legs for. My leg bounces quickly as I sit nervously biting my nails, anxious. On our long trip out there (we both lived comfortably in midtown, and were heading more towards the suburbs and outskirts of town), we chatted casually about school, work, classes we want to take next semester, and anything that came to mind. After getting lost on the highway and finding our way back, we finally reach Jenny's apartment.

"What is her apartment number?" I ask.

"Seven." Liz responds opening the front door and turning to walk up a small flight of stairs, as I follow her. We open another door and walk through, finding that apartment number 7 is directly to the right of the door we had just walked through. Liz knocks on the door and we wait a few seconds before the door opens and Jessie greets us.

"Hey! Come in. Jen's in the bathroom and then she's going to bring Jacob in so you can meet him."

A smile plays on my lips as I sit down next to Liz. Jessie glances at me and says, "He's cute."

"I'm really excited." I say as my leg starts bouncing again. Liz chuckles and places her hand on my leg, a sign for me to stop bouncing my leg. Just then, Jenny walked into the kitchen from the hallway, holding a small, fragile bundle wrapped in soft blankets.

"Hi, Jenny." Liz and I chorused.

"Hi guys. I want you to meet Jacob," Jen replies, beaming. Liz and I crane out necks to see the rosy cheeked babe in Jenny's arms. "Awwwww," we whispered, our mouths forming an 'o', as we cooed over the newborn.

"Hi, Jacob." I say, my thumb grazing his arm gently, his skin soft and glowing.

"Do you want to hold him?" Jenny asks me.

"Sure," I say as Jenny slowly transfers the baby into my arms. I support his head like I've seen new mothers do on television and in movies, and gaze down at this brand new life. Jacob stares up at me with sparkling, crystal blue eyes as if saying, "Oh, hey, it's you! You're here! Your adoration of me may commence." I gently tickle his small stomach, as he grabs my finger with his hand, his small fingers barely wrapping around all the way. As I am looking into his eyes, his beautiful eyes, I know that this is a moment that I will always remember, and can't help but thank the heavens that I shaved today. Because as I had guessed, it was well worth it.