seven. years. later.

So, practically out of nowhere, I get a call from an old college friend, muh muh muh my Sharona. I haven't spoken to her in at LEAST five years, but we have left a series of alternating voicemails for the past nine months or so. Around 5:11 pm yesterday, she calls at a slightly opportune time, and Houston, we have contact!

Sharona is the only person I know who doesn't wear a seat belt because getting thrown out of a Ford Expedition was one of the best things that ever happened to her. She introduced me to Kurt Vonnegut and marathon tanning. I am forever in her debt for holding on to the stair rail for dear life when a (much heavier) me was falling down the stairs barreling straight for her. I could have easily broken my back if it weren't for her Mighty Mouse-esque 100 lb. barricade on step number five. Her reasoning is hilarious, and in our day we convinced each other to do increasingly alarming things to our bodies/hair in search of obsessive-compulsive perfection. We are both Gemini, which means we can make the most ridiculous ideas not only sound feasible, but like it's the most ingenious thing we've ever thought of and must be implemented five minutes ago.

Which leads me to just one of her many incredible habits... namely shaving her entire body, every day.

Sharona was smooth, tan, and moist (as in LOTIONED, you pervs). I'll never forget the first day she shaved her arms, saying in complete awe of herself, "Nana, it's AMAZING! My arms have full contact with the world! None of that senseless HAIR stuff keeping from experiencing life fully! Feel it!" and I would look at her smooth arms and stroke one finger down the top of the area from her elbow to her wrist. It was amazingly soft and smelled like Suave Sun-dried Raspberry Lotion. Wow... I wished MY arms felt and smelled like that.... but I couldn't commit to the maintenance of shaving my whole body, every day. Sharona saw that covetous look in my eye, but she new better than to say anything of it. The next day, the same conversation ensued. I think I held out for about nine days of this sensational torture before I joined the Shave-Your-Entire-Body-Every-Day Club. There were only two members... Sharona and me. It was awesome... I was completely smooth and smelled of Suave Sun-dried Raspberry Lotion. After thirty minutes of making sure every square inch of my body had zero hair and then drying off and then lotioning.... I realized that this was not going to fit into my routine very easily.

It all went really well until our club went on hiatus for the summer. I got lax and started doing the whole routine once every other day... since I wasn't really TOUCHING anyone. So then I go on a youth trip to Dallas, Texas, as a chaperon, and I had to wake up at 3 in the morning. I get stuck in a 15-passenger van next to the mouthy seventh grade asshole who is like, "oh my god.... what is WRONG with your arms?!?" every time we hit a bump he would be like, "Diana forgot to shave her arms and now I have to pay for it!! This isn't FAIR." On this day, I vowed to myself that the arm shaving must come to an end.

After months and months of growing my coarse arm hair out... I realized it wasn't going to get any softer. I used some Nair, which took off all the hair.... and then it grew back... STILL prickly.... so I waited for it to grow out AGAIN.... all this time, inadvertently rubbing arms with people who would look at me with a question mark of disgust in their expression.... It took me a whole year to get my soft arm hair back.... this involved more Nair.... waxing.... and a ton of waiting. Last night on the phone, I was finally able to describe this process to Sharona. She was laughing so hard she could hardly stop... then I asked, "So you didn't go through this?!?" Her giggle subsided momentarily... "Oh... no.... no..... I still shave my arms." Seven. years. later. I was in awe of such dedication and commitment. To which I replied: "Well.. you won't be stopping any time soon."