The Hedges Aren't the Only Bushes that Need Trimming

I can't take credit for that title and my friend can identify herself if she chooses to in the comments with a simple "you're welcome." She's probably shocked I used it, but then if she thinks about it I've always been very good at being very awkward and a wee bit embarrassing. I promise to pay you something if I get a big fat book deal. She's tolerated a lot from me :). Anyways I thought it was a genius title as titles aren't my strong point.

I actually did have this topic on my list of things to discuss focusing more on the legs, but we'll start here and keep it short and as disturbing free as possible. So this is definitely a topic my mother never discussed with me. I think I developed a clue about it probably from girly magazines, but I got an education from the male perspective hearing a bunch of crass boys talk about it constantly when I was in Italy. These were not all Italians, they were mostly American boys. There were way more boys than ladies in my school program, so we were way outnumbered and they were really bored and horny. They kept dropping lines like landing strip and bald and finally informed us all that they were guessing how all the girls groomed. Gross!!! none of their business!!! Well from my perspective. But that didn't keep me from listening in on occasion.

Probably my first real educational experience came in Brazil. Let's just say I don't recommend a bikini wax at all. But if you've already tried it without crying in pain and/or distinctly remembering the pain, by all means, continue. I find it interesting that I had to leave the country to learn about grooming this area. Maybe we really are prude here in America. But I'm ok with that in most cases.

Now onto the the legs. My mother never taught me about shaving my legs or armpits either. One day I just decided to give it a try. What, you ask, caused me to make this decision? Well I was in either 4th or 5th grade, I think, and I decided to try wearing a skirt to school. I had a really hard time being comfortable in skirts mostly because I was a tomboy I guess. But I still wanted to try being a wee bit girly after watching all my friends wear their cute skirts and what nots to school. So I put on my skirt and went off to school feeling all cute and confident. As confident as a girl with humongous glasses could feel.

So our class room was set up with groups of 4 or 5 desks . There was this boy in my group, who I happened to like at the time, and he commented on my hairy legs. I don't remember exactly what he said but I remember feeling my face get all warm and I can only assume turn really red. I was humiliated and never wore a skirt again to school until once or twice in high school. (I only wore dresses and skirts church at this time and because I always wore hose to church and it didn't seem to be an issue until I discovered, probably at this time, that your hair actually pokes through the hose!!!! What!!!! What good are they then?) Come to think of it, my brother might have made fun of my hairy legs one or twice back then too, but who cares what your brother thinks or says? So from then on, I decided it was time to start shaving my legs.

I just looked for a razor in the shower and lathered up a little soap and went to town. I feel sorry for who's ever razor that was. It couldn't have possibly been my brother's. I don't think he can grow hair on his face to this day. Let's just say I've never seen a 5 o'clock shadow on his face. Or a noon the next day shadow. But I haven't lived with him in about 12 years now, so I suppose things could have changed since then.

So I started shaving....terribly, but none-the-less I was shaving my legs. For the next 7 or 8 years I suffered through patches of hair left behind, which I noticed when I wore shorts, and was convinced it was so bad that everyone was laughing and pointing behind my back. I also suffered through countless cuts, nicks, and painful skin peels. You know where the blade catches a piece of skin and rips it up until you see the blood or feel the pain and stop, but you were going so fast that it's half way up your leg by then. There weren't enough band aids in the world to stop my bleeding. This also defeated the purpose of skirts and shorts for that matter, because who wants to show off their legs covered in bloody band aids? Yeah, nothing says sexy, like dried blood running down your legs.

Was I the only person that had this problem??? I can't imagine that I was alone in that struggle. Anyways, I tried everything from shaving cream to a brand new razor, but none of it worked. I could cut myself just as good with a new razor as I could with an old dull used razor. But they are the worst. Nothing solved my problem until they invented the razor with 3 blades. I'm not really sure why that worked. I suppose it's possible that at the exact moment that I used one of those razors, my legs decided I had been through enough tragedy and torture, and that I had had a sufficient amount of practice and decided to have mercy on me and toughen up. I choose to think it was because of the genius who added a third blade to the razor. It is possible that those razors had been around for years before I noticed. But I would prefer to think that they were brand new and there was no possible way for me to prevent my torture until that exact moment in time. Please spare me the pain of knowing this if you know it to be true.

I'm not sure what all my mom could have taught me about shaving other than letting me know that it was time if I was going to wear skirts sans the pantyhose. But I'm sure seeing your baby grow up isn't easy so if they ignore it/pretend it isn't happening, then their daughters won't suffer. But they do in so many ways. But again, what doesn't kill us, makes us stronger....or is it bitter??? hmmm....there's a fine line between the two I guess.

Either way, I'm an old pro at it now thanks to the boy or boys who made fun of me.