STRANGER THAN FICTION: WOMEN SHOULD TAKE A STAND -- DON'T SHAVE YOUR LEGS

Men would faint if they had to smell Nair for 10 minutes.

It was a beautiful Sunday.

The breeze was warm, the sky was deep blue and the bright sunshine picked up the highlights in my leg hair.

Yes, you heard right. Leg hair.

See, it's getting to be pants season, the season when all of the good little girls who obediently shaved their legs all summer just let loose. Hey, if the hair isn't causing runs in your pantyhose, why mess with it?

But Sunday's warm weather caught me by surprise. I quickly pulled on my shorts and headed out to a university soccer match with The Other Half and my buddy Dave, a man who has never had a thought he didn't say out loud.

"Shoulda shaved your legs," he commented.

See, Dave doesn't have the part of the brain that tells him either to keep his mouth shut or lie. For example, if a friend walked up in a dress that made her look fat and asked how I liked it, I'd think, "Ugly dress." But I'd say, "Cute!"

Dave either never had that part of the brain or lost it in a surfing accident. He'd say, "That dress makes you look fat. And the pattern looks like someone puked on you."

His comment about the stubble gracing my calves made me think. Who ever decided that men could have hair on their legs but women couldn't?

I'm thinking it's the same guy who invented corsets, pointy-toed shoes and mascara -- the makeup component from hell.

What we women go through to remain leg-hair free. We stand on one leg like exotic birds, trying not to bleed to death in the shower. We use our old Epilady contraptions to yank the hair out by the roots. We coat ourselves with Nair and then walk around trying not to touch anything while the roots dissolve.

Could you imagine a man doing something like that? Ten minutes wearing Nair and he'd be passed out from the smell.

Nope, you probably have to be an American woman, raised with a big mother-and-media-dispensed dose of hatred for your body to go through that kind of hell.

There's one notable exception: a former coworker named Steve.

Steve competed in bicycle races a couple times a month and was getting pretty serious. He came to the office in shorts one day, and we girls noticed a little something was missing. Somebody finally asked where his leg hair went.

"I shaved it off," he said. "Shaved my arm hair, too. It makes me go faster."

You can't tell me that wind resistance in one's leg hair makes a major difference in a 24-mile amateur bike race. Face it, Steve. You just liked that smooth, silky feeling that comes with a fresh shave.

Imagine if all male athletes did that. They'd be in their locker rooms trading tips on razors, telling rookies to shave WITH the lay of the hair, not against. Suddenly, the door would burst open and an excited young man would run in with a box. "Look guys!" he'd yell. "My waxing kit just came in!"

In the words of Susan Powter, it's time we stopped the insanity.

It's getting colder anyway. I challenge the women of this nation to put down their razors and bottles of Nair and just let nature take it's course. That's what I'm doing.

Can't wait to tell The Other Half.

~Heidi Nieland is a former Southeast Missourian staff writer who lives in Pesacola, Fla.