August 26, 2000

i have to add razors onto the grocery list again.  i've enjoyed an eight-month break, but Master's decided the hair must go once again.  And gone it is.  

      Thursday morning i was spending some quiet time sorting through my email, and Master was chatting away to K, on the telephone.  i finished my mail, wrote on a sticky note that i was getting in the shower, and stuck it on His chest.  Then made the mistake of stretching some of the kinks out of my body, from sitting, which caused the hem of my nightshirt to rise a bit higher than i'd anticipated.  Master's hand pushed between my legs ... He got a gleam in His eye as He grazed over the hair softly, and then He flicked His wrist in a motion that left no doubt in my mind.  He wanted the hair off.

      "All of it?" i mouthed.  The big nod.  "Damn," i mumbled, and prayed i still had a fresh razor left.  

      Even after all this time, i've never gotten completely over the feeling of vulnerability i have when the hair is not there.  i don't understand why.  It's not like the hair actually 'protects', other than serving as a covering over an area that's pretty private to me.  Yet when i'm bare-haired (lol, i like that phrase) i find myself taking peeks in the mirror every now and then, just to see what it looks like.  Hmmm.  Sort of a sideways, half smiling mouth.  

      i think i might find it all a bit startling because i haven't spent much time actually looking at my genitalia.  And bare-haired, it seems almost young-looking, which is hard to reconcile on an older body.  Or maybe that's just me being paranoid again.  

      And i still feel like a pretzel, trying to do all the twists and turns required to actually be able to see what i'm shaving, when i've got that razor pressed up against some very delicate parts.

      Wearing skirts without underwear has a brand new meaning again.  Funny how i'd managed to delude myself into thinking it wasn't so bad when i at least had my hair.  

      Maybe i should get rid of the short skirts.