Jessie and Billie go to the opera

This morning, I have razor burn on my upper lip, and a cigarette burn on my chin. So, my face hurts, but at least it's a good way to lead into shaving and hair maintenance!

Today, Billie and I are going to the Opera of the Pacific to see the Barber of Seville, so I wanted to look snazzy. I'll be wearing my new white oxford from Old Navy, red and gray striped sweater vest, black tie, leather jacket and new dress shoes. I've got my hair slicked back a bit, parted on the side, very unlike my usual "I just woke up and this is what happened" hair style.

And this morning in the shower, I shaved. I don't shave my legs, I shave my face. I've got a handful of little reddish hairs that grow in a tiny line along my chin, but I started shaving well before those little guys started popping up. I've always had bad skin, and a lot of acne scarring and on-going breakouts make my face feel rough and gross. However, my skin always feels nicer after I shave. Smooth, soft, and very touchable. I also like the ritual of it. I've got some special glycerin soap I use just for my face, a nice razor, and some good after-shave lotion.

I shave my armpits, too, because there's absolutely nothing I hate worse than armpit stubble. I hate it.

However, as I discussed in my seven-little-known-facts post, I really get a kick out of my leg hair. I had no idea it would come in so long, so dense, and in so many colors.*

I really wish I would have stopped shaving my legs sooner. My introduction into shaving was a traumatic one. My leg hair was perfectly blond and fine, but could not slip past the girls at my junior high unnoticed. The girls in my PE class bothered me mercilessly about it, until I finally acquiesced. I ended up cutting the fuck out of myself, and I still have the scar on my ankle to this day. The girls didn't care though. I did what they wanted, and I fit their mold, so it was all OK.

I'd been shaving less and less frequently, until Billie told me "You know...you don't have to do that, I'm perfectly happy with you fuzzy." And I stopped altogether. I found it strange that it took permission from my wife to stop shaving. Though I've always hated doing it, I still felt obligated to, because that's how women are expected to be. It felt as though my dating-girls and ex girlfriends would be disgusted if my legs were hairy, even though I was more masculine than them.

So, fellow butches, what feminine-typical things do you still have hang ups about?

*Imagine my dismay, when after fostering my new leg hair for about three weeks, I had to shave part of one again to get my newest tattoo!