I remember my first time. I was a bit of a late bloomer so among my friends, I was one of the last to join that special club. I sat forlorn while I witnessed them having what I perceived to be all the grown up fun. I was anxious to do it too, but I was nervous.
And then one day, it was my turn to be a big girl. My turn to take that next step to womanhood. I had plenty of pep talks from my best friends who considered themselves savvy on technique by then. So the day came…I had my supplies to make it easier. But even the most careful planning can’t prevent the sting.
I am talking knicks and cuts, people. And the first time you shave your legs.
You try to be so delicate but unless you are Johnny Cade or PonyBoy Curtis, you have no experience with a razorblade. You slather with soap but oh, you have no skills. You leave the bathroom with 20 pieces of toilet paper “bandages” stuck all over your legs. And never mind the mess you created which looks like Hannibal Lecter had a few guests in your bathroom. With the direction of growth or against the direction of growth? It matters not because when you are new, you might as well shave your legs with a microplane and save yourself the surprise of being knicked. And then you have the excuse you were attacked with a dangerous weapon and not have to admit you were shaving your legs and doing a very poor job.
But oh, you just couldn’t wait could you?
And bless your heart when you forget your little pink Bick disposable razor and decide to use your Dad’s blade because you think “he will never know”and then put it back without telling him so he too can knick his face up like he did the tango with Edward Scissorhands.
And it is not just girls, boys have no immediate skills either. Hence the reason my brothers looked like they hugged a barb wire fence the first few times they had to shave. How the razor even reached their skin I don't know with so much shaving cream on their faces, they looked like Santa Clause or Billy from ZZ Top.
And bless your parents hearts when they see your legs covered in gauze. You casually dismiss their smirks because your war wounds are something to be proud of since you are a woman now. You know your parents want to laugh at you but they don’t. Or they do laugh but at least they wait until you go in your room and get busy either chatting on the phone with your friends to the tune of “oh myyyy gawww, I totally cut myself” or doing your “we must, we must, we must increase our bust” exercises. These activities high in both frequency and importance on a teenage girls “To Do” list.
And your parents also hope you learn very soon to stop hijacking your Dad’s razorblade so he doesn’t have to show up at his office with TP face and blood on his collar.
But no, for some reason, we as young ladies just couldn’t wait to have those legs touched by that razorblade for the very first time. Had we only considered that we would have the opportunity to do it every day for the rest of our lives, I think we could have waited.