Not By the Hair of My

I looked down at my leg, sticking out from under my skirt, its hairs tucked tightly to the skin by the pantyhose, little tips of them sticking out and causing fuzz to protrude, rounded patterns tightened into circular tornadoes on my farm-tanned skin.

It was a good-looking leg. It really had a nice shape to it—except for the knobby knee that I always compared to other girls’ and found lacking.

I could see the beauty, but would anyone else find my hairy appendages attractive? Would my mother’s religion, saving my hair, save my soul…inadvertently dooming every mating potential?