Beautiful Memory

My youngest son spent a few years in the Middle East. He was in charge of the Muslim workers and turned half-Arabic.

The beautiful memory is from the day he stood by the kitchen table, naked from the waist up, and had his grandmother (!) shave his armpits.

In front of his aunt and his mother.

Y’all hate women with hairy armpits?

I suggest every man has his oxter hair waxed off.

The cries of pain would reverberate through out infinity and beyond :o)

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