There are regrets in life, we all know things that come up here and there that catch us by surprise and we say "If only..." I believe I qualify in the "If only..." realm when it comes to leg shaving. I've probably lost a couple of pints of blood over the years to my inability to properly hold onto a razor or trying whack the hair at a peculiar angle. A true mother/daughter bonding moment was missed all those years ago. My mother showed me her razor once, it was electric and she could easily glance over her legs in two shakes of a lamb's tail. She was effortless when it came to her appearance. Funny that I mention a lamb, I could have had a professional sheerer come in twice a week all these years. My father had the regular razor, drop the blade in, twist the bottom and go for a ride around your face. He too seemed to be effortless in keeping up his appearance. I may have been a female genetically but the hair that grew on my legs seemed to come directly from my dad. I didn't need elastic to keep my socks up, the hair did it. I could feel the breeze from the wind not just from it bristling through the hair on my head but the hair on my legs. I swear they could get tied up in knots just from scratching. I was warm in the winter months and sweating in summer. You get the point. It wasn't dense but it was enough.
So you can imagine I couldn't wait to shave my legs for the first time. Let the wonderment begin, what did I know. I just wanted to be the girl who said "Who wears short-shorts?" I remember being 13 and it was time to join all those women out there who were themselves enjoying smooth, hairless, glossy looking legs. I tried my mom's electric razor but it wasn't a good match. I think I would need hedge clippers to cut back on the growth THEN begin shaving. But being the baby bear, momma bear's razor was too rough. Then I thought of dad's razor. YES! the Holy Grail, all would be well because Jack Gallagher was shaving his face and it always looked and felt perfect. I would use dad's razor. I was in the shower, using soap and did both legs, now I was about 5'5" at this point so not too much in the square footage department yet. I didn't know it would take so long but I persevered and started at my ankle. I got past the ankles on both legs and then went up the backs of the legs, no problem with those spots. Then I went for the shins, here I ran into some problems. I pressed down too hard and the razor dug into the skin and caught on the bone taking a layer all the up the leg to right below the knee. The red strip of blood started right away. I couldn't believe there was so much blood. But I was also thinking I had another leg to do. So, of course, I pressed on the shin on the left leg as well. Same result, twin shins bleeding. I was scared at this point because they wouldn't stop, it was as if I cut the main artery in each leg. Water and blood running down the drain and me unable to stop it. I grabbed a towel (nice, clean white towel smelling of bleach) and tried to dry off before doing the legs. The tub was looking sad and yet festive at the same time. I applied pressure to the legs and reached in the medicine cabinet for band-aids. Now, here is a quiz: What amount of band-aids does one need on two legs? About 20 in total is what I think I used. I had now been in the bathroom for about half hour and for a family of six with one bathroom that is an eternity. Dad was knocking on the door. I quickly got dressed, realized how painful this truly was and tried to clean up the best I could. I grabbed his razor and put it back on the shelf above the sink. Cleaned up the blood in the tub and then hid the towel as I opened the door and sped past him. Thankfully, my room was next to the bathroom and I bee-lined in there quick. I inspected the towel closely and decided I could wash it out later and I put it on the back of the bedroom door. I brushed my hair out and made my way downstairs. I hoped no one would notice I was walking a little weird but they didn't pay attention.
Now about 10 minutes had passed when we all heard a crack of thunder, in this case, my father letting us know something terrible had happened. He came downstairs and we all looked at his face, little pieces of toilet paper were dotted on his chin, neck and the corners of his lips. This didn't look good and I knew immediately what I forgot to do. Clean out the DNA I left in his razor. I tried to not pay too much attention and was getting something to drink from the fridge. Just then, Dad blurted it out "Who used my razor last?" It just hung there and I again didn't pay any attention. My brothers said "No", my mother said "No." Then who? Who could it be? Everyone then looked at me and I looked at Dad and said it was me. My mother asked, "Bridget, you were shaving your legs?" "Yes, mom." She countered "Did you cut your leg?" "Yes, Mom." One of my brothers chimed in "How bad did you cut your leg?" I added "legs." I slowly raised my pajama pants and showed the procession of band aids and the blood that had seeped out around them. It was a horrendous sight. I started to cry and said I was sorry and hoped Dad wasn't mad at me, I just couldn't stop crying, for one reason, my legs were killing me. I had the first realization at this point that being a girl sucked and shaving my legs would be my hell. The only good thing is the freckles and what an ample supply. I can hide shaving my legs for a day or two past the point of hearing a kid say "Mommy, why does that lady have hairy legs?"
Every time I take razor to leg, I am extremely careful but being careful still means accidents can happen. I have gotten to the point where I dare the cut to bleed and for some reason it doesn't bleed for more than a second. Till this morning. I carved a nice happy face into my upper calf. But it only took one BIG band-aid. I must ask someone when the follicle says "screw it, I'm done growing on this women's legs. We've done here a great injustice and will cease growing." Please hair follicle, hurry up with that.
