I met her at the bookstore. Our place to meet. She had come early and I had arrived late. She had many problems at home. Her husband was comming down hard on her. Cancelling her AOL account. Kids leaving. She was down. We talked. We hugged. She was wearing two shirts and jeans. Security clothes; the kind you feel protected and secure in.

There’s rationality and a dream about hair.
Largely, it is dispelled that any hair, beyond the highly/overly styled hair on the head, is bad. A tuft in the arm pit, a bit of a happy trail, anything on the legs is taboo. It shows a “lazy” woman. It indicates someone that is “butch”. These are unsaid things. The public awe and shaking of the head I have seen is remarkable. A woman, with the body hair unshaven and in public, the outcast, a true window into how much society’s expectations have shaped us.