When I was 17, I saw a picture of Frida Kahlo with armpit hair, and it took my breath away. I didn't realize I was questioning society's standards of beauty in that moment, but I was. I like armpit hair on women, but I never had the self-esteem to grow mine out until my early twenties. For over one blessed year, I didn't shave my armpits. When I got a job in an office, I started again. My twenties were nothing like I expected. Sometimes it felt as raw as adolescence, only with the wisdom to realize I didn't know everything. I've loved the start of my thirties, though I was hoping for some semblance of balance or stability that has thus far eluded me. I laugh a lot. I cry a lot.
I shaved my armpits for this.