I shave my legs backwards when I’m tired
I don’t do spa days or girl nights. I don’t paint my nails or dye my hair. But I shave my legs backwards when I’m tired.
It was time to get a new razor. I was shuffling my three year old through Walmart trying to find bubbles, sending him soft, understanding tones to move along from the overwhelming toy isle.
We finally found the bubbles; admittedly I went a little crazy myself and got all the cool bubble gadgets! The little crab that moved around while blowing tiny bubbles is still my favorite gizmo!
The bubbles just happened to be across from the hygiene area and I remembered the third thing I went there for, real shampoo and conditioner (not the Johnson and Johnson baby wash I have been getting by with for a few weeks), a hair brush (because I have mismanaged my postpartum curlicue hair and now have a rats nest on the back of my head), and a new razor (I haven’t bought a new razor since I was pregnant with the baby that is now 9 months old).
I used to love showering. Sitting under the scolding hot from the dark depths hell, focusing solely on my breathing and my mediative tree. On hard days, when mothering was just a little much, I would shower.
At the moment, we are temporarily living in a camper, on our friends farm, while we travel in search for forever home. Have you ever showered in a camper? It’s not lavish. The water pressure allows for a full 5 minutes to soak my thick, brown, curls. The water temperature is either death by fire or ice. We took out the shower stall walls and hung a curtain, but it still feels like you can barely move your elbows out. Not to mention the size of the holding tank, where you really only have about 5 minutes worth of shower or the tank will need emptied quicker than the other tanks. And this is while on city connected water instead of using the water tank. So yeah, showering isn’t exactly the best of times right now.
But, I take what I can get, when I can get it. The same day I bought the real shampoo and conditioner, a hair brush, and a new razor, the kids went to bed early and I was able to take a shower. Not a full, meditative tree shower, but a little more than a five minute, crushing anxiety shower.
I washed my hair. The suds so big they were coating the shower curtain. I conditioned my hair. Brushing out the rats nest, running my fingers through it with ease for the first time in many weeks. I washed my face with our very own homemade charcoal lard bar soap from pigs we raised before we sold the farm. And finally, I got out the new razor and bushwhacked my long, pale, legs.
This razor is the kind advertised to women like me. Who don’t get to shave often, but also don’t always have a reason to need to; the kids don’t care if mommy’s legs are a little hairy. The package says “no clump technology”. You know I was sold when I saw that.
It’s been awhile since I have last shaved. My muscle memory is slow to react, forgetting when to change the direction of the blade and to go slowly over my knees and ankles or I will cut myself. But more than that, this razor doesn’t feel like it’s even touching the hair. “No clump technology my butt” I think.
I graze over both legs. I think that maybe I’m just not as good at this as I used to be. But I’m not about to throw away a $15 razor. I’ll keep it, half hairy legs and all.
I get to my bikini line, “maybe if the kids stay down Paul and I can ‘cuddle’” I wonder almost out loud. But then, I notice it. Why this razor sucks. Why this razor isn’t shaving any hair off.
I put the blade on backwards.
At first I’m annoyed, not wanting to take the extra few minutes to shave all my parts all over again. But then, I giggle.
“I shave my legs backwards… when I’m tired. That sounds like a story to share”.
I reshave both legs, from ankle to the weird angle on my calves, around my thicker than I’d like thighs, and even my bikini line. At least my hair feels clean, my curls bouncing again, and I can go another 2 or 3 months before probably shaving backwards again.
LOVE, LIVV
