by Josh Olsen
The hangover was almost more than I could stand.
I hadn’t vomited yet, but my body was wrenched with pain and I constantly felt like I was on the brink of shitting in my pants and, to top it all off, a woman was standing less than ten feet in front of me with her hands behind her head, airing out her unshaved armpits.
Whether or not she was aware of it, this simple gesture seemed confrontational.
It wasn’t even hot outside, yet she was wearing a sleeveless shirt and I found it near impossible not to stare as the wind blew through the matted brown hairs under her arms, and I clearly wasn’t the only one disturbed by this image.
One after another, men and women walked by and cringed, and I swore that I could detect the slightest hint of a smile on the unshaved woman’s lips.
She had to know what she was doing – there was no way she couldn’t – and, for that reason alone, I admired her.