In sixth grade, I distinctly remember a classmate looking at my legs in disgust. "They're so hairy," he said. That's when I learned that the natural way that the hair grows on my body is unacceptable.
By seventh grade, I had corrected this egregious violation of American female beauty standards. A couple of girls asked me (why?), "Do you shave your legs?"
"Yes," I said.
"Does your mom know?" was the follow-up question (why?).
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