She's Growing Up

At the end of last week, the weather was unseasonably warm. I noticed that Rebecca was wearing long pants, and complaining about how hot it was at school. When I asked her why she didn't wear shorts, she informed me that she didn't like to wear shorts to school because she had "man legs". I didn't quite catch her drift, but she pulled her pant leg up to show me the thick growth of hair on her legs. "See? Man legs!"

I went with my first reaction and told her that she was too young to start shaving her legs. "But, all the other girls in my grade are shaving theirs!" she whined. I stuck to my guns and told her no. She wasn't too terribly upset, but she still chose to suffer the heat in her long pants.

Over the weekend, our conversation kept coming back to me, and a memory from my childhood came back to me. I remember being right around 11 or 12, Rebecca's age. The girls at school were making fun of me because of my hairy legs. My mom wouldn't let me shave my legs, either, and I was mortified. I remember begging my mom to let me shave them, but she wouldn't budge. One night in the shower, I shaved them anyway. Being young and stupid, I didn't have the sense to hide what I had done, and later that night, my mom discovered what I had done.

She was mad, really mad. She grounded me for a week for disobeying her, but I didn't care. I had already decided that whatever punishment my mom could dish out was far better than the ridicule I was getting at school. I served my grounding, and from that moment on, I shaved my legs whenever they needed it, and my mom didn't stop me.

Having remembered how I felt at that point in my life, I decided to let Rebecca shave her legs. It seems like such an insignificant task, but to a young girl (and her mother!) it's a big deal. It means she's growing up. For the girl, it's exciting. Another step toward womanhood. For the mother, it's one more step toward independence, one more piece of childhood we have to let go.

I took her into the bathroom last night, and showed her how to do it, and then I left her to finish the job herself. It took her a while. I'd imagine she took her time, so as not to cut herself with the razor. When she was done, I had her put lotion on to avoid razor burn and dry skin.

When she finally came out of the bathroom, there was a grown-up "glow" about her. She seemed to walk a little taller, and she had exchanged her long pajama pants for a pair of shorts. "Look, Mom! No more man legs!" she said smiling, and then she hugged me.