A local Facebook friend tossed this one out for our consideration:
Ladies, at what age is it appropriate to start shaving legs?
Our 5 year old’s legs look like Sasquatch.
“How bad can this be?” I thought. I mean, she’s five, fercryingoutloud.
A memory from my past then burst in, unbidden:
I remember one girl from high school who apparently had been forbidden to so much as look at a razor, and she wasn’t even slightly blonde. What’s more, she was growing the stuff even faster than I was, and the prescribed school uniforms insured that it was always on display. If it bothered her, though, she never said so, and I never considered it my place to ask.
And this is where things get tricky. It’s not the peach fuzz I remember, exactly; it was the fact that this stuff was growing on one of the nicer pair of stems in the class of ’69, deployed with as much sub-Dietrich skill as any to be seen in those days.
Still, she was sixteen or thereabouts; the parental proscription would presumably be lifted before too awfully long. This is not the sort of predicament that obtains when you are five.
And there’s something a bit offputting about the idea of a beauty ritual being foisted off on someone whose age is still in single digits.