I've Never Shaved My Armpits (And Not For Ideological Reasons)

Let's play "Never Have I Ever." I'll go first.
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Charlene
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Let's play "Never Have I Ever." I'll go first.

I’ve never seen The Notebook.

I’ve never seen Gladiator, Braveheart, or The Godfather: Part III, either. I hear I’m not really missing out having not seen the last of the Godfather trilogy. And to be completely honest, I have no desire to see half-naked men violently fight. Naturally, for this same reason, I have also never seen Shakespeare in Love.

You movie buffs out there are no doubt shocked. SHOCKED. Braveheart is a classic, you say. Mel Gibson at his best. Also, why the hell are you including The Notebook in this list?!

Well, for one, they’re all movies that star hot men. That dude, Gwyneth Paltrow? SWOON.

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Also, they’re all movies that do that thing which incites people to repeat what I’ve just said, but with dramatic incredulity. For example:

Me: “I’ve never seen it.”

Person who’s seen it: “YOU’VE NEVER SEEN IT?!”

I have no excuse except to say that I have bad taste in movies. Sometimes I just want to sit back and enjoy a mindless ABC Family Christmas movie rather than use my brain juices to decipher the plot of Shutter Island. And I’m not the least bit embarrassed by it.

My favorite ABC Family Christmas movies that I’m totally embarrassed by.

My favorite ABC Family Christmas movies that I’m totally embarrassed by.

In other words, I lie. “Ooooh yeah,” I nod knowingly. “When the shark fin slowly approaches the boat to that genius soundtrack, I just about pee my pants in horror.”

You might not be surprised to hear that my taste in movies isn’t the only thing I’ve lied about. The fact is, sometimes it’s easier to lie than be subjected to another “YOU’VE NEVER…?!”

Like, “YOU’VE NEVER SHAVED YOUR ARMPITS?!”

If I had a nickel for every time someone’s said that to me, I’d be rich! Well, richer. By, like, ten cents. Because I lie about it! We have no (beauty) secrets here at xoVain, though. So yeah.

I’ve never shaved my armpits.

This doesn't count. I'm pretending.

This doesn't count. I'm pretending.

Never. Not even once. The closest a razor ever gets to my underarms is when I bend over to get to my hairy legs. Before you faint at the horror, I should also mention that I’ve kind of lucked out in that area.

I wasn’t blessed with underactive sweat glands or a flair for the non-dramatic. I was, however, blessed with little to no underarm hair. Kismet, I guess. For every embarrassingly sweaty occurrence, I’m apparently treated to one less armpit hair.

Needless to say, I am by no means a part of the hairy pits club. Even if I tried, at best it would look like random pieces of lint got stuck under my arms--because yes, several strands of hair do pop out every few months or so. And when that happens, I’m quick to eradicate those suckers before they become any more noticeable. I have nothing against that personal choice. More power to you, hairy pits club members. But, aside from self-consciousness and a desire to fit within societal (patriarchal?) norms, I prefer to avoid the specific odor that occurs when my sweat mixes with my pit hair.

And so, over the years, I’ve taken care of the stray hair or two with my ever-trusty tweezers. For the most part, this is the best method for me. It causes me little pain, and it doesn’t take much time to pluck all ten of those hairs.

The most inconvenient side effect with plucking is the random ingrown hair and pretending to commiserate with the shaving/waxing/lasering problems of everyone else I know. For example:

Everyone else: “Ughhh, this razor burn is killing me.”

Me: “Ooooh yeah,” I nod knowingly, as I guess I’m prone to do.

Some of you are probably rolling your eyes pretty hard right now. But really, I have my share of problems, too. Like it can get pretty cold (I’m talking low 60’s) out here by the SoCal beach.

I’m a jerk who lives by a sometimes-chilly beach.

I’m a jerk who lives by a sometimes-chilly beach.

Seriously though, I know it sounds like an annoying humblebrag (which I guess it is). I know I lucked out in the underarm gene pool. I know I’ve been graced with the convenience of never having to shave my armpit area. I know, “YOU’VE NEVER…?!” is a totally natural and completely justified reaction.

Because I also know, it’s a little weird.

The few times underarm hair actually made its way into a conversation and I actually admitted that I’ve never shaved them, the reactions had been strong enough for me to know that I’m a bit of an oddball.

So yeah, I’m clearing the air once and for all. And YOU SHOULD, TOO.

It’s time for a virtual game of “Never have I ever.” I’ll go first.

Never have I ever shaved my armpits.

DRINK!

DRINK!

Now, who’s next? What have you never done?