A Surprisingly Sane Blog

I suck at shaving my legs.

No, like really suck.  I have to use one of those safety razors for the mentally challenged in order to keep from killing myself while shaving my pits.  You know, those kind with the three blades that swivel and flex with the shape of your bumps and lumps.  The ones that cost way too much to justify buying one unless your life depends on it.  Like a whole eight bucks or something.  For real.  Trust me, though, my life really does depend on the sort of razor that I buy.

So since the movers packed my razor for the special people with the rest of my toiletries, I had to make do with a disposable one that I found in a package under my parent’s sink.

If I wasn’t sure as to why I use one of those pricey razors, you know, the kind that cost your first born, then I do now (Sorry, Julie, I have to hand you over to those people who make those razors).

When I tried shaving my legs for the first time in several days last week, I butchered my left shin.  I didn’t just skin it or nick it a little, I mean I actually attempted to completely remove my entire leg.  It bled like a bitch in heat for days straight.  I decided NOT to shave my legs again until I get my razor from storage because the brutal beating of my skin was just so not worth the price of being somewhat feminine.  And I’ll be damned if I have to spend another freaking eight bucks on a new razor when I can buy loads of chocolate chips with that cash instead.

But of course, because I’m a total masochist, I changed my mind.  Partly because I’m going to see James in two days, but more so because I had to wear a pair of *gasp* shorts while I washed my jeans and I didn’t want to stare at my scabbed-over Sasquatch legs all day.

Yuck.  Shorts.  I hate wearing shorts.

So this time, I actually took my time and miraculously managed not to violently remove an appendage or leave the shower looking like I got raped by a sexy vampire named Edward.  One that looks and acts nothing like the one in the movie.  Dude, they really should have let ME do the casting.  He is SO NOT the right guy for the part.  If you have no idea what I’m talking about, go read Twilight, you sad, pitiful, poor excuse of a human being.

Oh right.  Shaving.

I deserve a pat on the back.  The fact that I did not massacre every inch of skin the razor graced is a flippin’ miracle.  And I am really enjoying my soft, smooth legs.

Minus the bloody war wounds covering them, of course.

Since I’m going to be in Seattle where shorts are an unnecessary part of one’s wardrobe, maybe I’ll just let the grass grow free.

Or not.

Current Mood: Alarmed

This entry was posted on Monday, September 7th, 2009 at 10:07 pm and is filed under Confessions, Sarcasm. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.