Saying Goodbye to an Old Friend

So I was talking with a friend a while back.  Girl chat stuff.  She was newly divorced and hitting the dating scene.  I honestly don't know how I would ever survive modern dating.  I have been married so long, I can't even fathom having to wade into the cesspool of human desperation that is dating in your forties.  God bless all of you out there in that swamp!

So we're chatting, and she mentions that she is going to have some hair removal done.  Yep, that's right.  I'm going there!  Apparently hair on any part of your body is now considered completely unacceptable, especially for someone looking to find true love.  I grew up in a time when it was considered a right of passage to shave your legs for the first time, and armpit hair was just for European women.

As I got older I became aware that it was common for ladies, before hitting the beach, to get their bikini line waxed.  Hmmmmmm.  Ok.  I could see that.  Swimsuits are getting smaller and nobody wants to see a pube parade at the pool, but I couldn't quite imagine letting a stranger perform this task. It was definitely something that could be managed on ones own.

I'm not sure where things went awry, but the hair removal menu has gotten a hell of a lot longer since I was in college!  According to my friend a "bikini wax" now equals a full Brazilian, (ie) nary a hair to be found.  Why anyone would want their lady parts to look like little girl parts is beyond me.  Now I'm not suggesting that we should all forego any kind of "personal maintenance".  You don't want to lose the forest to the trees, but seriously.

Two things here, 1.  OUCH!  2. I simply cannot imagine letting a stranger, who is not bound in any way by a confidentiality agreement, to get that up close and personal with my bits and bobs.  Can you imagine what the chit chat is like in the break room at the average salon??

Now, while they're "down there anyway", they also offer to remove the hair "from the back".  They don't mean your back.  That's a separate procedure.  They mean your ass crack.  That's right!  Is nothing is sacred anymore!  The funny thing here is that most of the people I know who could actually really use this procedure are married, heterosexual men who would never, EVER dream of having it done!

Even my friends nostril hairs where considered offensive.  "You can't go kissing boys like that"!, she was told, and out they came.

Then we came to an area of the body for which I have a slight sensitivity when it comes to excess hair.  The moostache.  Yes I admit it!  Sometimes I get lax and have been known to rock a mustache that rivals most 13 year old boys.  It's gotten worse as I've gotten older.  I have tried waxing.  Ouch. It leaves me with an equally odd looking mustache of little red bumps.  I've tried bleaching.  That just makes my mustache whiter.  I tried Nair.  That worked for a while, but it stinks.  So my friend suggested getting it zapped off.  Electrolysis, she said, will take care of it forever.  She said I really need to do it, and I said I'd keep it in mind.

Now, we were just having a casual conversation, but when she looked me deep in my eyes and said, "No Michelle, as your friend, I'm telling you, you really need to do it", I realized that my mustache was less pubescent boy and more Tom Selleck.

Damn.

Now this was a while ago and I only just recently made an appointment with a esthetician.  Yes, it is time to say goodbye to my old friend.  I did the consultation and everything was tickity boo.  I was told to shave the "affected area" that night and report the next morning for the zapping.  I told my 13 year old son about this little procedure on the way home from school.  He thought it was hysterical.

When I got home I got together my shaving supplies.  My lady razor was not really suited to the job of shaving an upper lip.  The head of the razor is so freaking big it would be difficult to get the actual blades in to contact with my skin.  So I did what any woman who's been married for a hundred years would do, I grabbed my husbands razor out of the shower.

One look and I knew I would be making a trip to the drug store.  It was something out of a nightmare.

  

Not his actual razor, but not far off!

Whiskers and soap scum.  I swear there were mushrooms sprouting on it.  It looked like a petrie dish that had been sneezed into and left in a hot, damp room.  Gag!  No way that was going near my face!

As I was headed out the door, my son asked me to please pick him up a razor too.  Yes, he is only thirteen, but for the past several months he has been using his dads electric shaver to buzz off his little fuzzy lip caterpillar.  I could write an entire book on how not ready I am for my boys to grow up, but now is not the time.  I took my time and picked him out a nice razor and a little travel sized shaving gel to go with it, then I cried all the way home.  

He was quite pleased with my choice, and later in the evening I heard him ask his dad to show him how to use it.  Awwwwwwwww!  If ever there was a classic father son bonding moment it has to be the first shave, right??  I could just picture the two of them standing at the sink all foamed up with razors in hand!

Unfortunately Dad was busy.  I believe he was fingers deep in a video game.  My son, not being one to wait, asked me to show him.

I immediately said no!  This was a father son thing I told him.  I couldn't ruin that!  Plus, I have no experience shaving the face.  I could show him how to get his legs silky smooth, but his face?  And here is where my over sharing came back and bit me in the hairy upper lip.  "But Mom", he says, "You have to shave for your appointment tomorrow".  

And that is how I found myself, 10 minutes later, standing at the sink, elbow to elbow with my son, all foamed up with razors in hand.  He with his nice new razor and me with my lady shaver, trying not to slice my lips off.

Yes, it looked as silly as you are imagining, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.  As I rinsed Tom Selleck down the drain, I knew my son and I would remember this moment forever.  I cannot wait to hear him tell his children about the first time he shaved, with his Mom.  I knew I had a mustache for a reason!  Now that its purpose has been fulfilled I am happy to let it go.  Not sure how I'll teach my youngest how to shave when it's his turn, but I'm sure I'll think of something!  For now I'm going to google patterns for tiny little lip cozies.  It's gonna be a long, cold winter for my naked upper lip!

Peace out!

Michy