So there I am the other day, sitting on the sofa with a couple of friends of mine watching ridiculous shows and working out way through a bottle of wine. As I have a niiiice big stretch and yawn, I hear a squeal from Beloved Friend.
“Aoife!” she says.
What… about my armpits? (At this point I’m a little worried about exploding giant moles)
“You haven’t shaved them!”
I, uh, guess that I haven’t in a few days?
“Why haven’t you shaved them? I haven’t shaved mine today but I’m getting mine waxed!”
“You should wax your armpits!”
Eh… uh.. Probably not, petal.
And then we went back to watching cartoons. There you have it, folks. Sometimes patriarchy is a Beloved Friend cuddling with you on the sofa. Still don’t quite know what to make of that one. Twas a good thing she didn’t see my legs.