The Razor’s Edge

I had this flashback of 8^th grade the other day. It came after writing about the shoes, ‘Your Best Foot Forward’. Funny how these things sneak up on you. It’s nice to know some of the ole grey matter is still kicking in from time to time.

My visual image of the shoes is accompanied by the bulky knee sox we were required to wear as part of our uniform; navy blue w/ a cable knitted into the sides of the sock. Oh sure, the white snowflake knitted into the navy knee sock was quite fashionable for the fashionistas of the public school world, but not part of our uniform code. The snowflake socks were frowned upon by the nuns. (Not to code.)(After all, nuns had to follow codes too. They knew codes well.) We would even be reprimanded. We could say that ‘that was all that was available’, make excuses that laundry hadn’t been done. Could it be overlooked just this one time? A polite nod would be given by the nun. God was on my side today! YES! (As I smiled quietly to myself…) Oh, God, please don’t let her catch me smiling or smirking. Did we really get away with anything? Yet, there was always tomorrow & its socks, plain navy socks. Nuns have excellent memories. A mere glance at a snowflake sock on a future date let us know “I remember”.

As I was staring down at my boring, navy, socks one day, I became aware of the fuzz. That fuzz was the hair on my legs sticking through the knee socks. ARGH!!! When did that happen? Well, as young ladies blossoming into womanhood, we as classmates were well aware of such changes, reading Seventeen, Teen, Good Housekeeping and Woman’s Day! I must have daydreamed a day away or missed a page in a magazine. Either way, action had to be taken!

Now the common train of thought was that if you shaved too soon, it would grow back thicker. THICKER THAN WHAT? IT WAS GROWING THROUGH MY SOCKS!

The questions at hand were how do I get a razor? Will my father’s double-edge razor be noticeably duller? Should I tell someone to get one of my own? Nair? NEVER! These questions felt like life & death at the time. This was the razor’s edge. Decisions, decisions.

To be honest I don’t recall all the details all that well. I did choose to shave my legs; a rite of passage for a teenage girl. The world did not come to an end in doing so.

WHEW!

Perhaps the whole point of such events is to prepare us for the greater decisions of life. Today I can pass it off with a smile, a fond memory. Greater tragedies have befallen me as well as greater joy. Time mellows memories or is it the great equalizer? Perhaps it’s just menopause. After the hot flashes pass, the hormones diminish and the hair on the legs is not so much anymore! This is also something to smile about. Or, is it just about priorities?

Today, being a woman of greater wisdom, I choose not to shave my legs! J Well, just for today. Maybe.

….but there is that chin whisker!!!!

Cathy