On the Edge

When did the simple act of leg-shaving become an undertaking fraught with such extraordinary stress and distress that it became necessary for manufacturers and advertisers to collaborate and come up with all sorts of implements to lessen the burden? Why do we now need “systems”, complete with comfort grip handles or fully-integrated disposable shaving-cream cartridges, and all other manner of rotating/vibrating/gyrating/oscillating accoutrements, just to remove a bit of hair?
TV commercials show us women struggling with ordinary tools of the leg-shaving trade. These butterfingered beauties are in the bathtub or shower flailing about, manhandling razors as if they had no opposable thumbs. Blood is shed, and, apparently, a whole lot of sweat and tears (so it’s a good thing they’re in water, I suppose, to wash away one and disguise the other), over a simple activity that has now been elevated to the labor-intensive status of giving birth or self-trepanation.
All the sound and fury signifying absolutely nothing reminds me of the fussy flosser I wrote about earlier this year. This frustrated fellow couldn’t deal with placing a thin strand of waxed fiber between his teeth; he had to attach all sorts of brushes and swabs to a battery-operated contraption to accomplish his lofty goal. Because flossing, like shaving and toothbrushing (which I won’t get into now), is oh so very difficult. And apparently such a burden.
If it ever gets to the point where you’re about to pull the hair out of your head over the stress of the hair removal process, I suggest you forego any of these new-fangled shaving “systems” and simply relieve yourself of the stress by way of an old-fashioned razorblade pressed firmly against the insides of your wrists. That is, if you can find one.
P.S. Make sure to slice vertically, up the arm. It’s more effective that way.