Shave and a Haircut
The second biggest thing that teenage boys dream about and look forward to (we all know what #1 is, so there’s no need to go there) is shaving. Yes, the true sign of being a REAL MAN – the daily scraping of growth off your face each and every day. Or, if you’re really cool, growing yourself a studly, ZZ-Top worthy beard. Yeah, that’s what being a man is all about.
Shaving is soooo much fun. You grab that tri-blade disposible razor with full gusto, slap on a little (or a lot) of Dad’s shaving foam, and go to it. Hopefully you won’t cut your jugular open in the process. Once finished, it’s time for “dessert” – AQUA VELVA! Or if you’re lucky, your old man has some leftover Old Spice from Father’s Day (‘cause you know he won’t be wearing it anytime soon). With any luck, the stinging and burning sensation from all that aftershave will wear off long before the manly scent does.
The problem with shaving is you spend your early teen years dreaming of the day when you’ll need to actually shave, then the rest of your life bitching about having to do it. You know the old phrase about being careful about what you wish for?
I couldn’t wait to start shaving when I was young. I was pretty much a hairless wonder until I was around 19, when I tried growing a mustache. Why did I try growing a mustache? Well, I’d like to tell you it was because I wanted to be cool, but the truth was I was tired of people calling me “ma’am.” I had a young face anyway, and my voice was still pretty high, so I decided that facial hair would be the way to differentiate me from an ugly woman. Unless they mistook me for an ugly Italian woman, I’d be set. So in late 1983 I stopped shaving my upper lip. And my puny-yet-effective mustache (sort of) came to life. Coooooool.
It was fun for a while. There was a time in my life (the late 80’s of course) when I liked my ‘stache, but the Lovely Mrs. G. always called it my “pimp mustache”, so it went away when I went to work for the Mouse and has never come back. (Uncle Mickey didn’t allow mustaches, no matter how pimping they may have been.) I did try a 'stache and goatee once, but it itched like a son of a bitch, and since my chin hairs are starting to come in gray, too, it was just pointless. So nowadays I’m a clean shaven man, and will probably remain that way for life. Or at least until I get good and fed up with the whole process and become a hermit.
I’m an electric razor kind of guy – the old safety-blade-and-methol-hot-foam routine never really appealed to me that much, so I toughened up my face and went with the foil razor style. This seems to work best for me, especially when I’m still half asleep at 5:30 AM. Putting sharp knives up against my skin when I’m looking in the mirror through one half-open eye isn’t the wisest of ideas. Over the last 20 years I’ve gone through probably a half dozen razors, mainly because they either no longer hold a charge or they become so damn uncomfortable that it’s like pulling each hair out one by one.
Speaking of which, a survey a few years ago asked 100 men who hated shaving every morning if they’d be willing to go through electro-removal of every hair follicle so that they wouldn’t have to shave ever again. Not one said “yes”. Can’t say I blame them much. I wouldn’t do that. And no “waxing” for me, either. Sure, I may have some hair on my back, but nobody is going to rip the little fuckers out, that’s for sure.
So I’ll just keep up with my daily shaving habit, and hope that someday mankind will invent a way to remove facial hair quickly, painlessly, and in a manner that doesn’t draw blood. And maybe they’ll come up with a pill to give to 15 year old mouth breathers to brainwash them into thinking that shaving ain’t that cool after all. That and cheap tattoos.
Shaving is soooo much fun. You grab that tri-blade disposible razor with full gusto, slap on a little (or a lot) of Dad’s shaving foam, and go to it. Hopefully you won’t cut your jugular open in the process. Once finished, it’s time for “dessert” – AQUA VELVA! Or if you’re lucky, your old man has some leftover Old Spice from Father’s Day (‘cause you know he won’t be wearing it anytime soon). With any luck, the stinging and burning sensation from all that aftershave will wear off long before the manly scent does.
The problem with shaving is you spend your early teen years dreaming of the day when you’ll need to actually shave, then the rest of your life bitching about having to do it. You know the old phrase about being careful about what you wish for?
I couldn’t wait to start shaving when I was young. I was pretty much a hairless wonder until I was around 19, when I tried growing a mustache. Why did I try growing a mustache? Well, I’d like to tell you it was because I wanted to be cool, but the truth was I was tired of people calling me “ma’am.” I had a young face anyway, and my voice was still pretty high, so I decided that facial hair would be the way to differentiate me from an ugly woman. Unless they mistook me for an ugly Italian woman, I’d be set. So in late 1983 I stopped shaving my upper lip. And my puny-yet-effective mustache (sort of) came to life. Coooooool.
It was fun for a while. There was a time in my life (the late 80’s of course) when I liked my ‘stache, but the Lovely Mrs. G. always called it my “pimp mustache”, so it went away when I went to work for the Mouse and has never come back. (Uncle Mickey didn’t allow mustaches, no matter how pimping they may have been.) I did try a 'stache and goatee once, but it itched like a son of a bitch, and since my chin hairs are starting to come in gray, too, it was just pointless. So nowadays I’m a clean shaven man, and will probably remain that way for life. Or at least until I get good and fed up with the whole process and become a hermit.
I’m an electric razor kind of guy – the old safety-blade-and-methol-hot-foam routine never really appealed to me that much, so I toughened up my face and went with the foil razor style. This seems to work best for me, especially when I’m still half asleep at 5:30 AM. Putting sharp knives up against my skin when I’m looking in the mirror through one half-open eye isn’t the wisest of ideas. Over the last 20 years I’ve gone through probably a half dozen razors, mainly because they either no longer hold a charge or they become so damn uncomfortable that it’s like pulling each hair out one by one.
Speaking of which, a survey a few years ago asked 100 men who hated shaving every morning if they’d be willing to go through electro-removal of every hair follicle so that they wouldn’t have to shave ever again. Not one said “yes”. Can’t say I blame them much. I wouldn’t do that. And no “waxing” for me, either. Sure, I may have some hair on my back, but nobody is going to rip the little fuckers out, that’s for sure.
So I’ll just keep up with my daily shaving habit, and hope that someday mankind will invent a way to remove facial hair quickly, painlessly, and in a manner that doesn’t draw blood. And maybe they’ll come up with a pill to give to 15 year old mouth breathers to brainwash them into thinking that shaving ain’t that cool after all. That and cheap tattoos.
posted by Tommy G at
10:13 AM
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