Shaving

I am in the closet at work. Since there are no protections in South Bend, or for that matter, the state of Indiana, I decided to closet myself to be on the safe side. I do not fear backlash from my co-workers, but rather backlash from the parents of the kids were they to find out about my sexuality.

Anyway, I'm trying to be a little less visible than normal. In other words, I am trying to pass as heterosexual. It's not that hard, given that most of my coworkers assume the heterosexuality of everyone they know unless told otherwise.

Thus, shaving. Mostly, I've been wearing long pants and t-shirts to work. However, free swim days necessitate that I shave because society states that straight women shave their armpits and their legs. (Yes, I recognize this is not universal practice among straight women.)

Shaving saps my strength. The first time I shaved all summer, I was exhausted for the rest of the day. I think the act of passing intentionally is magnified by actions it requires, and passing is much more painful when done intentionally than unintentionally. Thus, by shaving, I was actively passing as opposed to letting myself pass, and I let the pain take away my energy.