Shaving has always been something of an event to me. Most times, feeling as though an immense bother or challenge, to be perfectly honest . . . Since I was fifteen, I’ve been growing facial hair at a rate that is not to my taste nor liking, but I don’t complain. For the duration of time just up until very recent years, I just let it grow, shaggy and unkempt, into a bristly, brown mane about my face.
For whatever reasons that be, my moustache took the longest time to grow, and that is really what got me onto the idea of shaving. I hate having a moustache. Gets in my mouth, gets in my food. It’s weird to feel on my upper-lip, and it generally just annoys me. So, yeah, you looked at me and saw the image of every male geek around, nearly: fat, white, and bearded. Granted, I would like to think not as bad as most, but, still, I carried that visage of lacking proper hygiene – of course, I always showered.
It was probably the Gendo Ikari costume that really put me to shaving. Back in my freshman year of college, some newfound friends both convinced me that I struck an uncanny resemblance to Commander Ikari from Neon Genesis Evangelion -- the cult-classic anime – and that I should go to Nekocon, a local convention. Me being the good sport that I am, I did go and I even did dress like Gendo, for the sheer Hell of it. I’ll try anything once, and probably twice, thrice, and so on. (I hate mint, passionately, but I still eat mint almost everytime it is put in front of me; it’s as though there’s some vain hope, in my mind, that its flavour will, this time, not burn my mouth like stinging bees.)
Part of the details of this costume was shaving my beard to a chin-strap-style, and it fit me, well. I, later on that same year, shaved my beard off for the first time since I was fifteen, but that just didn’t work for me. One friend has told me that, without a beard, I have a baby-face, and that just doesn’t look right for my personality. Admittedly, I do have a baby-face . . . Which is partially why I enjoy shaving, sans the problems I have: where I shave is smooth and gentle to the touch. It’s like some sort of absurd and silly, guilty-pleasure to rub my freshly-shaven cheeks. Feels weird, so I’m fascinated by it, of course, like I am with all things unusual.
Anyway, the point of this whole entry is that shaving, for me, is an incredible pain. I am convinced that I have some abnormally hard-to-shave face, that most of everybody else can shave their face with relative ease. Me, though? I’ve had to experiment with it for three years to figure out an effectively painless and convenient method to my shaving madness. And, herein, I will present the guidelines by which I shave.
- (One) Use Gillete Mach III razor with Colgate Shaving Cream. I tried the disposable kind of Bic razors, but those just hurt my face and gave me razor-burn. Also, I attempted to use some Shaving Gel, once, and that had hideous results. I’m either allergic to the stuff, or it just doesn’t agree with my skin, or I used it absolutely wrong. I don’t know how else to use a shaving substance, though, aside from smear it on the areas you want to shave . . .
- (Two) Use Hot Water. Fucking boil a pot of water if need be. I shaved with cold water, once, recently, because the hot-water heater ran out of hot water, and Jesus Christ it hurt. The cutting and, oy, the razor-burn. Eck, hot water is your friend . . . And having thought about it, after the fact, I realized the reason for this is very simple Physics and Thermodynamics. Heat expands, while cold compresses: so, hot water opens your pores and makes it easier for the hair to be shaved, whereas cold water closes the pores and turns shaving into a massive festival of tearing and gnashing.
- (Three) Start where it is always the most difficult to shave. Originally, and up until almost a week ago, I shaved down, with the grain, then up, against it. Also, I find it necessary to shave sideways and diagonally, in places, because my facial hair grows in every fucking possible direction, apparently. I had the bright idea of starting with the parts that always gave me the most trouble and, invariably, caused the most pain, which lead to very pleasing results. I guess it’s because that’s when the most shaving cream is on my face, which brings me to my next point.
- (Four) Always have a thorough lathering of cream. Don’t shave and shave until there’s nothing but a scant, thin coating of cream . . . Refresh it. It keeps the sharp, pointy razor blade from scratching the skin excessively. It’s not wasteful to lather your face three times in one shave, just to prevent razor-burn.
- (Five) If you ever think to yourself, “This razor blade can probably go one more time,” then immediately toss it in the trash. It’s a foolish thought, I assure you, and it is, nine times out of ten, wrong. No, no it can’t go one more shave, it is dull and must be replaced. Ugh, I’m like a remedial-grade shaver or something, I swear.
In conclusion, I suck at shaving and these steps are the only way it does not leave my face cut and stinging, afterward. Moreoever, this has to be the single-most boring entry I’ve ever written, and it ends now.
Adios.
For whatever reasons that be, my moustache took the longest time to grow, and that is really what got me onto the idea of shaving. I hate having a moustache. Gets in my mouth, gets in my food. It’s weird to feel on my upper-lip, and it generally just annoys me. So, yeah, you looked at me and saw the image of every male geek around, nearly: fat, white, and bearded. Granted, I would like to think not as bad as most, but, still, I carried that visage of lacking proper hygiene – of course, I always showered.
It was probably the Gendo Ikari costume that really put me to shaving. Back in my freshman year of college, some newfound friends both convinced me that I struck an uncanny resemblance to Commander Ikari from Neon Genesis Evangelion -- the cult-classic anime – and that I should go to Nekocon, a local convention. Me being the good sport that I am, I did go and I even did dress like Gendo, for the sheer Hell of it. I’ll try anything once, and probably twice, thrice, and so on. (I hate mint, passionately, but I still eat mint almost everytime it is put in front of me; it’s as though there’s some vain hope, in my mind, that its flavour will, this time, not burn my mouth like stinging bees.)
Part of the details of this costume was shaving my beard to a chin-strap-style, and it fit me, well. I, later on that same year, shaved my beard off for the first time since I was fifteen, but that just didn’t work for me. One friend has told me that, without a beard, I have a baby-face, and that just doesn’t look right for my personality. Admittedly, I do have a baby-face . . . Which is partially why I enjoy shaving, sans the problems I have: where I shave is smooth and gentle to the touch. It’s like some sort of absurd and silly, guilty-pleasure to rub my freshly-shaven cheeks. Feels weird, so I’m fascinated by it, of course, like I am with all things unusual.
Anyway, the point of this whole entry is that shaving, for me, is an incredible pain. I am convinced that I have some abnormally hard-to-shave face, that most of everybody else can shave their face with relative ease. Me, though? I’ve had to experiment with it for three years to figure out an effectively painless and convenient method to my shaving madness. And, herein, I will present the guidelines by which I shave.
- (One) Use Gillete Mach III razor with Colgate Shaving Cream. I tried the disposable kind of Bic razors, but those just hurt my face and gave me razor-burn. Also, I attempted to use some Shaving Gel, once, and that had hideous results. I’m either allergic to the stuff, or it just doesn’t agree with my skin, or I used it absolutely wrong. I don’t know how else to use a shaving substance, though, aside from smear it on the areas you want to shave . . .
- (Two) Use Hot Water. Fucking boil a pot of water if need be. I shaved with cold water, once, recently, because the hot-water heater ran out of hot water, and Jesus Christ it hurt. The cutting and, oy, the razor-burn. Eck, hot water is your friend . . . And having thought about it, after the fact, I realized the reason for this is very simple Physics and Thermodynamics. Heat expands, while cold compresses: so, hot water opens your pores and makes it easier for the hair to be shaved, whereas cold water closes the pores and turns shaving into a massive festival of tearing and gnashing.
- (Three) Start where it is always the most difficult to shave. Originally, and up until almost a week ago, I shaved down, with the grain, then up, against it. Also, I find it necessary to shave sideways and diagonally, in places, because my facial hair grows in every fucking possible direction, apparently. I had the bright idea of starting with the parts that always gave me the most trouble and, invariably, caused the most pain, which lead to very pleasing results. I guess it’s because that’s when the most shaving cream is on my face, which brings me to my next point.
- (Four) Always have a thorough lathering of cream. Don’t shave and shave until there’s nothing but a scant, thin coating of cream . . . Refresh it. It keeps the sharp, pointy razor blade from scratching the skin excessively. It’s not wasteful to lather your face three times in one shave, just to prevent razor-burn.
- (Five) If you ever think to yourself, “This razor blade can probably go one more time,” then immediately toss it in the trash. It’s a foolish thought, I assure you, and it is, nine times out of ten, wrong. No, no it can’t go one more shave, it is dull and must be replaced. Ugh, I’m like a remedial-grade shaver or something, I swear.
In conclusion, I suck at shaving and these steps are the only way it does not leave my face cut and stinging, afterward. Moreoever, this has to be the single-most boring entry I’ve ever written, and it ends now.
Adios.
posted by c.Jay Wrong at
2:01 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home