But one Philadelphia man thinks I've been duped. Well, me and millions of other women.

The 48-year-old Louisville transplant, who identifies only as Citizen X, has launched a campaign to change public perception about female body hair. Part activist and part entrepreneur, he floods newspapers and chat rooms with reports linking antiperspirants to breast cancer and articles thick with words like "mind control" and "coercive persuasion." He even sends me homemade posters of hairless legs eclipsed by evil smiley faces or suits with dollar signs for heads. One such flier reads: "The public was tricked. Big business brainwashed them through the mass media. It's a crime!"

Sure, Greek and Indian women were mowing the lawn way back in the B.C. days, but the Great Underarm Campaign is less than a century old. By 1915, sleeveless dresses had come into vogue, and so Harper's Bazaar ran an ad that declared armpit hair "objectionable." Depilatories turned up in the Sears, Roebuck catalog in 1922, and much the way De Beers told the West that diamonds are forever, shaving one's underarms fast became the norm.

Citizen's own preoccupation with body hair started about 15 years ago. He'd been dating a hirsute lady, and noticed people pointing and snickering when they went out. He was furious, but the girlfriend begged him not to say anything.

"It's like kicking the cat. All they do is get beat down," seethes Citizen. "There was not anybody, anywhere saying anything. I decided I would take on this issue."

A quick Google search turns up hundreds of hairy-lady Web sites—the majority of which are pornographic. That, says Citizen, is a big part of the problem. It's the unshorn porn that perpetuates the idea that furry femmes are only liked by freaks. "As long as women pose nude, they'll never get [hirsutism] out of the gutter," he laments.

Which is partly why he launched My Hair Lady, a hirsute modeling agency that pays hairy women between $30 and $100 an hour to pose clothes-on. More recently, he unveiled Hair Force One, a modeling contest to find Philly's hairiest woman; he plans to give the proceeds to a pediatric burn unit. But despite his philanthropic intentions, recruiting models in tough-ass Philly has proven to be one tough undertaking.

"'What, you think I'm country?'" women ask indignantly when Citizen approaches them cold on the street. "'You calling me a dirty, nasty slut?'"

Citizen tries to explain his reverence for hairy bods, but few buy it. They call him sick, perverted and even gay.

"I can understand not liking these women," counters Citizen, "but why are you angry? It's senseless."

Man's got a point. Why does a hairy mole or a happy trail creeping over the waistband of a woman's jeans elicit such a hostile reaction from strangers?

"There's no denying that the anger Americans feel about female body hair is unjustified, misguided and not logical," says Citizen. "I can't hope for the masses to rise up. But if one woman is changed because of what I do, it's a psychological victory."

Questions? Comments? Can I get some fries with that shake-shake boobie? E-mail ashlea.halpern@citypaper.net. No phone calls.