Aug 30 2002
Love/hate: Shaving
Love/hate for Friday, August 30, 2002
Shaving
Shaving – I’m all for it. When I shave my legs (and I’m sorry to say that when a girl has been married as long as I have, it’s no longer the daily ritual that it was when I was single, the idea being, I suppose, that one’s husband is more forgiving of imperfections than potential suitors may potentially be), they feel like dolphins, and I love that. I’m also a big believer in pit shaving, for both aesthetic and olfactory reasons. Crunchy granola girls and Europeans be damned. Fuzzy arm pits would ruin the look of the most exquisite strapless gown or lacy bra. And anyway, I generally prefer artifice to nature.
Perhaps familiarity also breeds contempt for men, too, as far as grooming goes, because I’ll tell you, I’m lucky if John shaves twice a week. Even though he mostly feels that the entire world should be arranged to suit my convenience. Even though he knows I love it when he has just shaved and his face is all smooth, instead of doing a convincing cactus imitation which in turn wreaks havoc with my delicate porcelain complexion.
So shaving your face must be wore than shaving your legs and pits, since all men seem to hate it. But as usual, we women have more to do and bitch about it less. The ones who have the most work are definitely transvestites. They have all the boy shaving, and all the girl shaving, plus make-up, wigs, and other et ceteras to deal with. It must take them ages to get ready, especially since they are really guys. In my experience, girls always have to wait on the guys to get ready. But that’s another story.