I don’t think I know what you mean,” she said. I sighed. “Are you shaved?” I asked her. She began to stammer: “I ... uh ... I don’t ... I ...on’t think...” I nodded. “See,” I interrupted her, “we’ve got this weird little taboo thing about the female body where it needs to conform to a certain idea, and if it deviates from that, you’ll almost be outcast. Like, if you keep your armpits, or even your pussy unshaved, you’re somehow less accepted than the skankiest crack-whore. Consequently, only. Ted wasn’t too worried at being found out because he usually washed most of his own clothes. It wasn’t that his wife didn’t do laundry, but she didn’t do it often. Ted found it easier to take care of his own clothes than to remind his wife that he needed clean ones. Back in his study, Ted pretended to look at one of his books, and his computer had an open program displaying one of his lessons. In his mind, Ted saw only one thing: Emily’s face. He was no longer doubting or unsure of his path, he. More

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