The tedious task of shaving

I hate shaving. 

Enjoy being shave-free for now, girlie!

I am looking so forward to cold weather so I can get a break from shaving.  I am going to look like Grizzly Adams  when Spring hits this year because I have become so annoyed with the process and cannot wait for a reason to take a break.  My razor is always dull and I have to run it up and down my leg five times in order to get a smooth cut.  I think about the amount of time that I have spent shaving my legs throughout the years, and I am sure I could have built a tiny empire or traveled around the world a few times. 

And the armpits.  Ugh.  Why is it I tug and pull all over my underarm in order to get a good shave and yet when I put on that sleeveless shirt, I still find that one lone hair sticking out of my pit.  It’s as if it is giving me the middle finger and laughing hysterically – “You thought you got me, sucker, well I am a hard one to pluck, baby!”. 

Maria walked in to the bathroom tonight while I was in the shower.  She saw me shaving my leg, and sat on the toilet to watch.  Finally, she spoke up and  questioned “When will I get to shave my legs?”  I sighed and responded, “believe me, Ri, you do not want to have to shave.” 

“Yes, I do mom, that will mean I am becoming a woman.”

Yeah, believe me Ri, I felt that way too at age 10.  I remember looking at my pits in the full-length mirror situated in my bedroom at my old house and seeing a busy jungle planted in both of them.  I waited for mid-size game to jump out onto my floor screaming in delight at finally escaping captivity.  I had to actually use gardening shears to trim the hair and then move on to a razor.  Now I realize that my mom and dad were protecting me for as long as they could from that awful, inevitable process – the shave.  I will undoubtedly do the same for my daughter (although I may break down and give her the razor when I see hair poking out of all sides of her precious arms).