A breath of stale hair

I used to wonder why women took so much pains
in trying to be as hairless as possible.

I really did.

Facial hair:
Removing those I understand.
Facial hair is manly,
the human equivalent of a lions mane.

But I thought -
Why do they have a problem with body hair?
the one's on thier legs, forearms, even armpits.
It's hardly anything
or barely something-
which really,
is just splitting hairs.

Well...

Last night at the book store, I saw a 6'3 man in a -

blond wig and high-heeled shoes
and a
poofy-sleeved blouse and knee-lenght skirt
and a
pearl necklace and red clutch purse.

Besides the broad, meaty, quarter-back shoulders,
the one-to-one, waist-to-hip ratio,
his shoebox jaw and side-burns,

he looked decent, even chic - a handsome girl waiting for a date.

Truly a vision
as they say,
to haunt, to startle and waylay.

That was all before I saw his forearms
looked like a furry animal crawled under his sleeves
and was holding on for dear life.

Now, I'm no male-chauvinist.
I'm all for feminists and their cause
and I don't think anyone should be obligated
to look a certain way to be validated as what they are.
But to those women who choose
to shave
and wax
and pluck,

I get it, I sincerly do.