As a fair skinned lass with a small covering of fluff it’s amazing that I’ve dedicated as much time as I have to shaving. There’s parts of the journey I’d prefer to have forgotten about but hey it’s all been experience. I’m pretty good at it now. I still like to leave a thin ring of hair around the base of my ankle though. I wouldn’t want people thinking I was a complete fucking show off.
I first decided to shave my legs. As the youngest of 3 with two older brothers I really had my pick of razors to choose from. So instead of making a choice I decided to try all the razors out. Half an hour later I emerged from the bathroom. Delighted with myself I didn’t let the matching ankle and shin chunks I have hacked off my lower limps dampen my spirits. The questioning from my brothers the next day about the blonde fuzz in their razors and how did I explain the ‘Leaper legs on me’ didn’t detour me either from future midnight shave sessions. I just knew I had to be a bit clever and rinse the blood and hair off the razors afterwards.
It was a new millennium and I had upped my game considerably. Off to the Gaeltacht I went with my own bag of disposable razors. I don’t know if my mother taught the Connemara air would have werewolf like effects on my body hair but nevertheless I was amply prepared now 4 years on. So sophisticated were my Dublin ways that two older girls I shared a room with asked if they could have a razor as they didn’t have any (for anyone reading born after 1990 all I can say is that they were different times). Unfortunately the girls shaved their legs dry and ended up with rashy legs for the next 3 days. It really rocked the house to their core because none of us could have predicted such an outcome. The timing as always in these cases was bad as Ella was meant to be ‘meeting’ Rob after the Ceile on Friday.
By this stage I felt I had mastered the art of shaving. Never one to shy away from a new challenge I felt it was now time to say goodbye to the aul fire bush once and for all. I’d be gradually shirting around the area for a while to be honest. And as any pubeless lady knows it’s a long goodbye. Issues from the past soon raised their quite literally ugly head. A shave in hast is a rashy gee as the old saying goes. It was a time of trails and tribulations. But persistence to banish the Fanta fuzz would eventually pay off.
I went to the GP with a boil the size of a small hamster (I could have said beaver but I didn’t) located on my left labia. As I walked in to the office the doctor was startled as she understandably thought I was challenging her to a duel. I was given a course of antibiotics and told to give up shaving for good.