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Razor Gratitude

I realize this is right up there with my earlier ode to tweezers, but stay with me. Remember I’ve been sick and very low energy for awhile now. This means on a good day I make it into the shower… I get a bit lazy when I’m sick. Yesterday I looked down at my legs and realized I’d gone too far this time – I resembled a small bear.

I have mentioned before that according to my stylist I am approximately 80% gray. While this may be true as far as the hair on my head is concerned, the hair on my legs appears untouched by time: It remains the dark brown I was born with. Add to that the fact that in spite of my Southern California location, my legs are a striking milky white. Dark brown hair, milky white legs. Oh, the injustice! Now that you have the (probably unwanted) picture in your mind, you can understand why my razor matters to me. Going two weeks without shaving my legs is tragic… it’s at least a week and five days longer than I should have gone. Embarrassing. Yesterday as I looked down at my legs I got a sudden burst of energy that drove me into the shower to shave. I was at the point where I felt like I needed a scythe, but my razor would have to do. Thirty minutes later I emerged, still congested but feeling triumphant and a great deal more feminine. Razors rule!

Hey, I take gratitude wherever I can find it.

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