Friday, May 6, 2011

Hairy Legs, Moms Who Say No, and What NOT to Do About It...A Cautionary Tale

The summer of my twelfth year I decided it was time to start shaving my legs. Next to my best friend Arla, who was turning 14 and a leg shaving veteran of at least 2 years, I felt like Sasquatch. The hairy legs were wrecking my self esteem but no amount of begging, pleading or bribery would convince my mom that it was time to buy her little girl her first package of Gillette disposables (You’re too young for a razor!) or even a bottle of Nair (All those chemicals can’t be good for you!) So I did what any hairy legged, hardheaded 11 year old girl would do: I borrowed Dad’s safety razor.

Boy oh boy, was that ever a mistake.

After peeling my shin like a Chiquita banana and bleeding fiercely enough to soak a bath towel, I finally managed to get it under control. Then, in a frenzied fit brought on by Mom’s knock at the bathroom door, I stashed the blood soaked towel in the bottom of the trash can, covered it with the preexisting garbage, and proceeded to use medical tape to affix cotton balls to my wound. I just knew they would absorb more blood than gauze pads or Band Aids. Thanks to long pants and a stiff upper lip, no one knew of my pain and suffering.

That is, until I discovered that cotton balls hadn’t been my best option. I figured out that little tidbit the next day when I decided I’d probably better change the dressing. I learned two valuable lessons during this very trying time:

1. Safety razor is a misnomer. Deadly weapon would be far more fitting.

2. It takes a great pair of tweezers, steady hands, and as long as 6 hours total to pick from an open 6” x ½” wound all the fuzzy little cotton fibers left behind by a half dozen large cotton balls.

Mom learned a lesson, too: Raising her third and final child was going to be a more far more daunting task than either of the first two! ; )

Happy Mother's Day!

Hope you all have a fantastic Mother's Day weekend!

If you still have your mom, make some memories.

If not, celebrate her memory.

If you are a mom, bask in the glory of knowing

that you have the greatest job on earth!