The Modern Hoyden

As many of you know, I'm a bit of a rabid feminist. Or I'm getting there, at least. Maybe, if I keep working hard, some time soon the Feminazi council will promote me to "rabid." Fingers crossed. In any event, I wanted to put pen to paper (so to speak) about my personal experience with what is undeniably a feminist issue: body hair. If you have no interest in reading about my big ol' bush, I'd stop here. Because seriously, this is going to be 90% about my bush. Go ahead. There's the door. Oh. You're still here? Great. Let's begin. I have entitled this post "Learning to Be Ugly" because that's quite honestly what it feels like. I'm sure my thinking that way is part of the problem, but I'm not trying to be a perfect paragon of feminist ideals, here. I'm just trying to tell you about this journey I'm on- my hairy journey. That's also a good title. I'm going to go back and include it as a parenthetical. There. ...