Topic 103: Reflections While Shaving

Carol:

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

It has been a really long time since I shaved. I cared about it the most when I was also using the most make-up and wearing the biggest bouffant, i.e. around 1962 when peer pressure ruled my life and I really cared about what people thought, especially the merciless teasers at my school.  I guess shaving for girls could also be seen as small rite of passage much as buying the first bra or getting the first high heels. Each of these milestones of Western female culture involved an argument with my parents who weren’t as anxious to see me grow up as I was.
 

Even then, shaving wasn’t my favorite thing to do, especially since I was doing it on the sly.  I would perch on the edge of the bathtub, soap up my leg and pull the razor up from ankle to knee, stopping periodically to watch the blood spatter into the tub. And, shaving under the arms was a contortionist’s feat. I was also using my Dad’s razor, so once in a while I would hear a yell from the bathroom, then my father would show up at the breakfast table with little, red-stained pieces of toilet paper stuck to his face, muttering about dull blades and inferior razors.
 

My brothers were grown up and long gone from the house by 1962, so I had no recollection of what it was like when they started shaving. I imagined it to be a big deal for a boy since so many commercials showed fathers teaching their sons how to shave, a bonding experience accompanied by the father’s pride that his little boy was becoming a man. Movies showed little boys lathering up their faces with bladeless razors, standing on stepstools to reach the mirror, evoking a warm and fuzzy  “Ahhhh, how cute” from the audience.
 

Shaving for men is just a lot different than for women. Or maybe I am mythologizing a daily routine that is no more significant for my husband than flossing teeth. It’s the idea, though, that a man stands in front of a mirror to shave, a perfect time for reflection. The only thing I ever thought about when I was shaving was “Am I going to be able to stop the bleeding before I put my stockings on?” or “Did I get the patch of stubble behind my knee?”
 

My husband is a pretty bright guy, so I figure he thinks deep thoughts while he’s shaving in the morning.  I imagine him looking into the mirror as he grabs his nose to shave his upper lip, going over   legal cases if it’s a weekday or mulling over Eckhart Tolle if it’s a weekend, “Does it matter whether we achieve our outer purpose, whether we succeed or fail in the world?” (89). He spends enough time in front of the mirror that I decided to hang a list there for him to reflect on as he shaves, “101 Ways to Manage Stress.”
 

The reality, Marc tells me, is that he is more apt to be thinking  “Am I getting a close enough shave? Did I miss a spot under my ear? Does my truck need an oil check-up?”

I can’t remember exactly when I quit shaving because it was too much of a nuisance to bother. It t was after I had kids, moved to a colder climate, had a full-time job, no longer wore make-up and was in too much of a hurry all the time to really care what people thought. Now that I’m retired and not so hurried, I do spent more time reflecting when I look in the bathroom mirror, the perfect opportunity for really deep thoughts.

Megan:

I fell asleep thinking about this topic last night, and then dreamed I was desperately trying to find a place to shave my legs. I knew I had to write this essay and I thought it I would record my thoughts in the process. By the time I found a bathroom that wasn’t occupied and that had running water, I became distracted and shaved my head instead. I woke up pretty upset.

I also thought about lathering up my face and then “shaving” it minus the razor blade, because “reflections while shaving” is obviously a pun about mirrors, and again recording my thoughts. But my razors have about 50 blades and they are not easily dissembled.  Also, I’m worried about the effect shaving cream and water might have on this laptop.

So, instead, you’re gonna get my thoughts about shaving.
1.    Temperature – there’s nothing more annoying than shaving the legs and then hopping out of the shower to freezing cold temperatures and then your bare legs go into goosebump over-drive trying to force the hair to grow so the legs will be warm. But they are not warm. They are prickly.
2.    Standing up in the shower vs sitting on the edge of the tub vs lying in the water with legs in the air. Now, I tend to do the latter because I take a lot of baths, but when I was living in England, I didn’t have a bathtub. So, I would boil the kettle and pour it into a plastic tub. Then I would sit on the floor of my living room with one foot in the tub and two space heaters aimed at me (because of the aforementioned temperature thing). Obviously this was a complicated procedure. Other times I would just use the bathroom sink.
3.    I consider waxing. I’ve only tried it once, in high school with a homemade kit. I’m not particularly worried about the pain, but I do have very sensitive skin so I’d probably get a rash and then there’s concern about ingrown hairs and burns and having to wait until the hair is a quarter inch long before you can do it again. If I was okay with hair that long on my legs, I would probably not bother removing it all.
4.    I always forget to shave my feet. I have hobbit toes, but the hair is blond so that’s ok.
5.    I always miss a spot, usually around my ankles or a strip on the back of my calf. I never find it until I’m applying the lotion.