see mj write: day 18 {whatever tickles your fancy}

we all have at least one.

small or big, it doesn't matter. it's happened to each of us.

that one experience in our childhood that was so completely and utterly unfair, we are still, to this day, holding it against our parents.

in my case, the grudge has been disputed and ongoing for about 14 years.

i refer to it as "stubble."

stubble seems a strange name for something to be upset about for such a long period of time. i know. but i didn't come up with the name. they did. my mom and my sister, kelli, three and a half years my junior.

you see, i'm the oldest girl in my family. and as such, became the natural guinea pig for all things girl. curfew for one {i know i have older brothers, but apparently it's a different thing for your daughter to be out late?? and it didn't help that that second brother of mine had a tendency to disregard his curfew. thanks for that one, dan}.

or the rule in our house about no pierced ears until 12 years old.

but i'm not here to talk about either of those. i'm here to talk about stubble. another rule for that golden age of twelve: no shaving your legs.

this might not seem like a big deal to some, but when you're 11 years old and your long, dark, leg hairs are exploding out of your thick, white tights, it's something to be concerned about. all my friends had rid themselves of that particular embarrassment, but not me. i had to wait until i was twelve. it was a big deal.

but, twelve was the rule. and so i waited. and on the evening of october 8, 1993, i'm pretty sure i opened the shiny gift wrapped razor blade first. my forested legs just couldn't wait any longer. this isn't to say i wasn't nervous. my older and wiser neighbor jenni made sure to warn me not to go too fast - she had a scar to prove that wasn't so wise.

that first shave was slow going. and not because i was scared. the clumps of hair kept getting caught in the blades and i had to stop to clean it out countless times. it took for. eh. ver.

and when i finished. oh. the. glory.

smooth legs. i couldn't stop rubbing them. i'm pretty sure i used an entire bottle of lotion that night. and every night for weeks. i couldn't get enough of them. if the 12 year rule had no other purpose, it definitely made me appreciate the smoothness when it came.

and i knew, in traditional older sister style, i had almost three and a half years to make fun of the growth protruding from my sister's bright white tights. she already had the skinniness and the shape that my calves would never have, so i needed something on her. and hair was the key. it was going to be great.

fast forward about two years. i was standing in the kitchen. i don't remember the exact conversation, but i do remember my sister was mouthing off. this wasn't unusual. she got away with too much {back me up on this, dan}. but this particular night, after her snide remark, my mom very quietly whispered to her, "stubble."

"stubble? what's stubble?," i asked.

"oh, nothing," she replied. and kelli smiled.

i was persistent and after much badgering to no avail, eventually looked down at kelli's legs to see the absence of a forest. smooth, perfect, skinny, shapely, beautiful, kelli legs. smooth. no hair. just smooth. and she was barely 11. maybe even 10. doesn't matter. all i know is she was NOT 12.

the scene that ensued was not pretty. and definitely not appropriate for a public audience.

for the past 14+ years mother and younger daughter have denied everything while older guinea-pig of a daughter wallows in her misery. i got the cankles, the straight calves and the hair. she got the skinny ankles, shapely curves and the smoothness. and she got away with talking back.

life just isn't fair.


p.s. mother and younger daughter will not be allowed to comment on this post. they will be swiftly removed if you try. your view point, for once on this subject, will not be heard.