I have hated shaving ever since I was eight and ripped multiple holes in my face and neck with a disposable razor trying to mimic my father. Much like a girl who developed earlier than the other girls in High School, I’m not afraid to say that I have been well endowed in the stubble department for quite some time. While I didn’t get called names or have my bra strap snapped by immature boys who were trying to hide their discomfort/feelings towards me, it never sat well with me because I hated shaving it.
Unfortunately it is one of life’s necessary evils – like war, religion, and wearing pants in public. The hair on my face is not going to disappear of its own volition and I am incapable of growing a proper beard. For years I’ve tried various hair removal methods. Various means two, right? One was a beard trimmer and the other was your normal run-of-the-mill razor. For years the beard trimmer worked as I embraced the rugged manliness of uneven hair on my face, coupled with the dry, itchy skin it left behind. For the very few occasions I did have to shave, I’d dust off the rusty old 5 blade Fusion that was about as sharp as the handle of a soup spoon. I would go to town on my face the night before whatever it was I was shaving for in order to give the wounds enough time to clot and heal a little.
It was by no means an ideal situation and I found myself postponing shaving until it was at itching point – which is also the most painful point at which to shave. I even grew a goatee – possibly twice – and definitely attempted a beard (more than a few times). This year I decided this shit had to change. I had fallen into a vicious circle of not wanting to by a new blade because of the expense, only to rip my face apart with the blunt old blade which I refused to replace.
I went to the fountain of knowledge that is the internet to look for answers. My first stop on the internet was to the fountain of knowledge that is Michael Dooley. I would consider Dooley as thorough a researcher as there is. The following conversation ensued:
I took his advice to the word and bought the suggested items. The main one was a new chrome safety razor, nothing like the pieces of shit that you find at the local pharmacy. I was pretty terrified to buy it at first even though the name hints at added protection for my jugular (and therefore my life) but I only saw it as an instrument of imminent death. Introducing an element of danger into the bathroom is a sure way to spice up your shave life, I assure you. Not only that, but it gives a shave smoother than Michael Buble’s voice dressed in silk sliding down a bowling lane. I’ve gone so far as to buy myself what amounts to my own shaving kit, complete with a shaving bowl, badger-hair brush, and even some aftershave that I didn’t buy out of a stall at an agricultural show.
The point is that I managed to turn something that bothered me almost daily into something that I now enjoy and look forward to. As an added bonus, I now have my own items to leave lying around the sink and teetering over the edge of the shelf above the toilet. If I start taking care of my eyebrows next, things could get really interesting.