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April 6, 2023
Did I Shave My Legs for This?
By Mikie Baker
The Bandera Prophet
Ok fellas, take the week off. This column is for the women, and it’s pretty hairy. It’s all about shaving your legs. If you’re a guy who shaves yours, well read on.
When I was a Preteen (meaning no hair on my legs), the whole process was always on my mind. It was my dad, Joe the Pro’s fault. I’d storm into the house and start telling him some wild story about my day (can you imagine that?) and after I spewed out several details, he’d look up from his newspaper and say, “Now what was running up and down your hairy legs?”
You’ve got to appreciate a sense of humor like that.
But Dearly Demented Mom (before she went crazy) was not in favor of a young girl shaving her legs, especially if it was still only peach fuzz. But you know Preteens. We were pretty sure that once you shaved your legs, you were a “WOMAN.” Little did we know that menopause would be a gift from God. Ok, you guys who shave your legs can leave now.
Since DDM was anti-shaving at such a young age, I had to take matters into my own hands. I went to spend the night with one of my best friends and her mother was letting her shave her legs. I was so jealous. So that afternoon, I decided to hide in the bathroom and use her precious razor. There didn’t seem to be one available at my house because DDM kept hers hidden, and rummaging through her bathroom was not encouraged.
Well, as you might suspect, I didn’t know how to shave my legs. Remember, it takes a village to raise a Preteen. And probably a police station, too. So, I just sat on the edge of the tub and shaved my legs with her razor. I didn’t wet them, use soap or anything like that. I just shaved them. Then I came out of the bathroom to eat dinner with her family with my legs bleeding every which way. Her mother freaked out and wanted to call an ambulance until I explained what I had been doing. It hurt, took days to heal, and I couldn’t hide my mangled legs from DDM. Frankly, I looked like Rod, the crazy cat, had attacked my legs straight for a week.
So, lesson learned. Use water and soap and get somebody to teach you how to be a woman. You know being a woman is hard work. But that’s for another column.
Fast forward to me and Very Best Friend. She has extremely white skin and very dark hair on her legs, arms and chin. She’s obsessed with shaving her legs because black stubble on white skin is a bit terrifying. At least to her. She shaves her legs every day. I keep telling her to make that every other day since we are so old, but no one wears pantyhose anymore, so she’s adamant. Too bad we’re in south Texas because long pants could help her addiction.
Lately, I’ve noticed that I can go more than a week without shaving my legs because my hair is so light and there’s not much growing anymore, just like on my head. Again, thank you Menopause.
The only problem is all that leg hair went straight to my chin and now I grow a major beard overnight. VBF and I have a promise that if either one of us is in the hospital, the other will show up with tweezers to make sure we don’t turn into old, hairy men. Maybe there is a downside to Menopause after all.
When I was a Preteen (meaning no hair on my legs), the whole process was always on my mind. It was my dad, Joe the Pro’s fault. I’d storm into the house and start telling him some wild story about my day (can you imagine that?) and after I spewed out several details, he’d look up from his newspaper and say, “Now what was running up and down your hairy legs?”
You’ve got to appreciate a sense of humor like that.
But Dearly Demented Mom (before she went crazy) was not in favor of a young girl shaving her legs, especially if it was still only peach fuzz. But you know Preteens. We were pretty sure that once you shaved your legs, you were a “WOMAN.” Little did we know that menopause would be a gift from God. Ok, you guys who shave your legs can leave now.
Since DDM was anti-shaving at such a young age, I had to take matters into my own hands. I went to spend the night with one of my best friends and her mother was letting her shave her legs. I was so jealous. So that afternoon, I decided to hide in the bathroom and use her precious razor. There didn’t seem to be one available at my house because DDM kept hers hidden, and rummaging through her bathroom was not encouraged.
Well, as you might suspect, I didn’t know how to shave my legs. Remember, it takes a village to raise a Preteen. And probably a police station, too. So, I just sat on the edge of the tub and shaved my legs with her razor. I didn’t wet them, use soap or anything like that. I just shaved them. Then I came out of the bathroom to eat dinner with her family with my legs bleeding every which way. Her mother freaked out and wanted to call an ambulance until I explained what I had been doing. It hurt, took days to heal, and I couldn’t hide my mangled legs from DDM. Frankly, I looked like Rod, the crazy cat, had attacked my legs straight for a week.
So, lesson learned. Use water and soap and get somebody to teach you how to be a woman. You know being a woman is hard work. But that’s for another column.
Fast forward to me and Very Best Friend. She has extremely white skin and very dark hair on her legs, arms and chin. She’s obsessed with shaving her legs because black stubble on white skin is a bit terrifying. At least to her. She shaves her legs every day. I keep telling her to make that every other day since we are so old, but no one wears pantyhose anymore, so she’s adamant. Too bad we’re in south Texas because long pants could help her addiction.
Lately, I’ve noticed that I can go more than a week without shaving my legs because my hair is so light and there’s not much growing anymore, just like on my head. Again, thank you Menopause.
The only problem is all that leg hair went straight to my chin and now I grow a major beard overnight. VBF and I have a promise that if either one of us is in the hospital, the other will show up with tweezers to make sure we don’t turn into old, hairy men. Maybe there is a downside to Menopause after all.