Legs

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Up until I was 12 years old, I did not own a razor. I had no need nor want for one, and so I did not have one. While trying on a dress, my mother told me that I needed to shave my armpits. I agreed, she bought me a razor, and all was fine.

Before that, I had never had much negative thought about my legs. Of course, I knew they were not something that would be seen on the cover of a magazine, but there was nothing particularly wrong with them. Then I was told that my legs were hairy.

My legs were hairy.

My legs were large.

My thighs were too big and my hips were too wide.

My knees turned in too much.

My "thigh-gap" did not count, because it only existed because of my bad knees.

I shaved my legs for the first time. I bled profusely from my ankle and I still have scars on my shins. Every evening I would search up different exercises, looking to lose weight and tone my legs. I stopped having the odd biscuit throughout the day. There was nothing I could do about my knees, and to be honest, I had no problem with them.

I went into school, expecting compliments and remarks. No one said a word about my legs. I shaved my legs four more times and still, no one said a word about my legs. I pointed out my "new legs" to my friends. They laughed and did not compliment them.

I no longer shave my legs. People only point out the flaws, but never appreciate when they are fixed. 

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