It’s not easy being hairy. I imagine it’s not so bad for men. It’s considered masculine — like chopping wood or eating 50 chicken wings. There’s nothing feminine about hair, unless we’re talking about the kind of long, luscious locks that flow endlessly from the crown of Rapunzel’s head. The enchanted tangled forest that weaves itself down her inner thigh is another story entirely, which is why I’m blessed to have grown up in Southern California where a bikini wax is as common as a Fair Trade organic Guatemalan soy latte.