Females: One sure way to guarantee that you won’t get a seat on the subway–don’t shave.
It never fails, on the rare occasion that I show stubble, I’m forced to be a straphanger and let the fuzzy wuzzy pits show. My ankles are a different issue. It does not matter how careful or slow I am or speedy and reckless I am, there is always the random, errant patch of hair around one or both of my ankles. I’m beginning to wonder if the hair down there grows at such a rapid pace that I’ll never keep up with its growth rate. Perhaps those few square inches were exposed to a strain of hexavalent chromium. Or maybe in small clusters, the hairs are uniting in some secret revolution. Soon they’ll be shouting, “Hell no, we won’t go! Hell no, we won’t go!” Damned unions!