In high school my best friend and I befriended a girl who had a mother from hell.
This woman constantly berated this girl for being a girl. Everything about being a girl was a travesty. She was lucky that her mother allowed her to use sanitary pads – only because she didn’t have time to wash rags. Forget tampons!
Imagine being a young woman, a teenager, and not allowed to try makeup, go to dances, participate in sports, and worst of all, not be allowed to shave your legs or armpits.
It was the hairy armpits and legs that caused her the most anguish. Mother told her that if she shaved it off the hair would grow back in like trees and be blacker than coal. Her hair already was thick like a forest and midnight black. It was not going to be worse.
She was so terrified of her mother that we could not persuade her to at least shave. She dared not wear shorts or a swimming suit and donned heavy nylons to cover up the lengthy black hair, practically dying in the summertime from heat stroke.
One day, this beautiful girl shaved her legs herself. We had nothing to do with it. We weren’t there when the deed was done, but we were proud of her!
Her mother screamed at us and banned us from ever seeing this girl again.
What is the matter with people? No, don’t answer that. I already know.