Haley Yates’ Legs Take on the No-Shave November Challenge


By Haley Yates

October 31st. Men around the world whip out their Gillettes and strip away the stubble from their necks. For the next 30 days, November becomes a month of competition, seeing which male can sport the manliest Dumbledore beard of them all. In recent years, ladies have joined in on the no-shave November fun, flaunting prickly legs and furry armpits.

I have decided to join in on this hairy celebration, starting two days early. Why did I start two days early, you ask? Because I believe October 31st a night for candy and spooky masks, not razor burn and patchy ankles. I will be updating this post every couple of days with the status of my hairy legs.

October 28th

The legs are shaven. My skin is smooth. I am ready to begin a venture into the world of man-legs. I’m wondering what this endeavor will bring me. Enlightenment? Respect? Funny looks? Will I become a no-good-dirty-hippy who throws out her razor completely? Will people even notice the forest blossoming on my legs? Probably not.

November 3rd

Lucky for me, it’s cold outside. Pants weather is the best weather. I decided to steer away from pants-less ensembles this Halloween weekend – ’twas a good choice considering the stubble has begun.

November 9th

This weekend all of my fellow employees rejoiced over my leg hair.They asked to peek under my leggings to see the growth. I got high fives. Saturday night I had a dream about shaving. I woke up scared and confused, but was comforted when my hands met the fuzzy blanket of hair on my legs.

November 14th

I spent all day yesterday hiking in 30 F weather. As you can imagine, my leg scarves kept me cozy during the hike. The tiny forest harvesting on body has proven to be quite useful. Although they sometimes poke through my clothes, I’ve made peace with the poky hairs.

November 17th

It is below freezing. The hairs have learnt to lay down flat against my leg. When people ask to feel the hairs, they rake their fingers in the opposite direction of their natural flow. I have come close to punching three people for this reason. I am starting to realize the burden I have been faced with.

November 19th

People continue to act shocked when I reveal my furry legs. In math class, a boy said it was “really gross.” When I asked him to show me his leg hair, he said it wasn’t as noticeable as mine. I just smiled. I realize now I have failed to provide visuals. I apologize. Today is your lucky day. Here is day-23 of my leggy hair.


December 1st

It’s officially Holiday Season. The cocoa is mintier, Santa’s whipping out his hit list, and if I hear “Just hear those sleigh bells ring-a-ing” one more time, I’m going to kick frosty in his snowballs.

Anyhow, December also signifies the end of my fuzzy-legged adventure. I realize I have deprived all of you 11 days of hairy leg talk, and for that, I apologize. I promise to make it up to you.

That said, over the past week or so I have come to understand the dynamic of my situation. Seventy percent of males think my leg hair is “absolutely disgusting.” The other 30 percent admire it. Ninety percent of females totally dig my furry legs. The other 10 percent is irrelevant.

Personally, I still haven’t noticed much of a difference between having shiny soft legs and manly hair calves. In fact, the hairy little fellas have begun to grow on me. So much so, that I have decided to extend my leg hair excursion. Also, I’m a lazy girl who enjoys quick showers.

Don’t worry, I will continue to keep you guys updated.

December 7

Hello, all. I have just returned from Boston, Massachusetts. I decided the only way to truly test the endurance of my leg hair was to see how it held up in an extreme environment. Texas’ mild winter isn’t challenging enough for my legs o’ steel. Well, I mean, hair. Cue, Boston.

Above is proof that I actually went to Boston – that’s (probably) Boston as seen from an airplane window. Now, as you can imagine, it was quite chilly up north. I even got to see a lump of snow chilling in the middle of the Boston Common (see below.)

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Please pay close attention to the second photo. You may notice my leg seems to be wrapped in a warm, fuzzy something. Do not be fooled, that is not my leg hair.

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That is. Now, Massachusetts is a very windy, rainy state. In order to fully experience the weather, I spent a lot of time traveling the city by foot. I did, however, take the opportunity to explore public transportation that isn’t dysfunctional, smelly and terrifying (cough, cough, DART). Okay I’ll admit, the train was a little smelly.

Eventually, I made it to the Institute of Contemporary Art (ICA) which is located near a bay. It was cold and misty by the water, but the harsh winds had nothing on my sturdy wall of leg armor.

There, I met my friend Yarn Face. It’s quite obvious Yarn Face has decided to join me in the shave-less, hairy adventure. Kudos to you, Yarn Face.

What did I learn from this impromptu trip to the northeast? I learned that Boston is cool – in more ways than one – and my leg sweaters have been a fabulous and useful reward of participating in a prolonged No-Shave November.

December 13

If you’ve ever ventured into the Arts District downtown, you may have seen the Meyerson Symphony Center. It’s a tall, fancy building full of tall, fancy people listening to classical, fancy music. I was one of those tall, fancy people this Saturday, waddling around wealthy families sipping cocktails and showing off my studded heels and hairy legs.

Now, I know what you’re thinking – Haley, you can’t do that! You can’t waltz into Fancy Pants Dallastown sporting a forest on your legs. People spend lots of money to upkeep the classy, clean-cut environment. Well, I did. And you know what? Not a single person noticed. Not when my great-grandmother was admiring my shoes, and not even when I scooted past the older gentlemen sitting next to me and our calves brushed together. Maybe fancy shmancy Dallas folk don’t quite mind the idea of lettin’ loose and embracing you’re natural hairy self. Or maybe they were too focused on the jazzy ways of Jubilant Sykes.