Callie and her roommates were throwing a party.
I didn’t feel like going. The last time I saw them, I was arguing with one over the appropriate time to use a sugar scrub. I was square in the “before” shaving your legs camp, and this b*tch didn’t know what she’s talking about saying “after.”
Callie had to step in and tell us to cool it off.
Before I get off this topic, let me say that I am a leg shaving expert. It’s because I failed so spectacularly the first time.
I finally got the balls to ask if I could start shaving at the end of sixth grade when they started calling me ‘Hairy Helhoski.’
Today this seems like an eternity. Some preschoolers in my daughter’s class are getting laser hair removal.
Mom bought me pink daisy disposables with a moisturizing white strip and some shaving gel in an unnatural scent like Grapefruit Summer Breeze.
“Do you want some help?” she offered, instead of insisted.
“No! I can do it!” I screamed in my best pre-pubescent shrill.
No, I couldn’t.
First, I didn’t straighten my knee, so I was attacking the area like a climber with his ice ax trying to get up Everest.
Second, I shaved in the wrong direction. It takes a contortionist to shave downward. Since I wasn’t getting a smooth shave anyway, I was getting frustrated.
Third, I wasn’t rinsing out the already clogged and dull double blade with twelve years of twisted black leg hair.
So I pressed as hard as I could down on my left shin, and the hair and all of my flesh came off with it.
Sure it burned and I was bleeding, but this was shaving, right? So, I did the same thing to my right shin.
I still have scars.
So, the point is that I’m right. You exfoliate before shaving.
If you want to know about my arm hair, I lost most of it during college rugby initiation.
How I shaved half of my right eyebrow off is an entirely different blog.