This is the first post in a new “Rant” series. The thing is, we all have things that drive us crazy, frustrate us, make us headdesk. Sometimes we rant to ourselves or our best friend or partner – we all do it, girls, so let’s get it out! Our society still has this need for girls to be sweet, soft, accommodating people, and let’s face it: we all are just NOT like that all of the time (some of us most of the time!!). So, since I’m all about practicing what I preach, I’m gonna start the ball rolling with this rant series. Some will be humorous, some more serious, but they will all be Real!! Feel free to send me your rants as well at firstname.lastname@example.org so we can all share our intense and valuable opinions and frustrations!
So here’s the dealio. I’ve tried all the women’s razors in the book: the name-brand, the generic, disposable, electric, manual, Mach 3, Mach 4, Mach 15….. And it doesn’t matter which one I use, I STILL get scrapes, bumps, and ITCHY ITCHY skin afterwards from which there is no solice until a few days pass and the hair starts growing back. It sucks. And the only thing that sucks more is the time and money it takes to wax.
Until this week.
This week I found myself in a bit of a condundrum: I ran out of replacement razors. And as I was planning to wear a sleeveless top to work, I wasn’t about to risk revealing my gorilla pits to my office full of very detail-oriented engineers. What to do, what to do? Then what to my wondering eyes did I see? My husband’s razor tucked Nicely into a crevice in the mirror cupboard.
“Don’t mind if I do!”
Ignoring the disturbing thoughts of cootie-infested man hair rotting amidst its blades, I braved the journey into new territory.
Oh. My. God.
Are you kidding me?! I looked at the razor with unbridled delight and exclaimed, “where have you been all my life!!”. The sleek, clean shave. The soft, lotioned finish. Was this razor constructed from the harps of angels? Would my skin ever forgive me the scorching torture of so many inadequate razors of years past?
My razor was hastily exiled to the garbage can in the garage. And as my husband doesn’t actually *know* I’ve been borrowing his razor, I’ve gotten pretty adept at replacing it in the exact position I found it in whenever I borrow it.
Of course, then came the inevitable question: WTF??? Why are men’s razors so much nicer than ours? I realize faces are sensitive but it’s not like we have dragon scales on our legs!
My conclusion? Well, the only logical one, of course: razor companies hate women. Seriously, that’s the only way to explain it. It’s a bunch if men so insanely obsessed with the silken state of their man-stubble that they probably forgot to make women’s razors in the first place until they remembered that, uh, women EXIST. I have pretty good insight into these things so this is how I am sure the conversation went:
Manufacturing Manager: “Elwood! How are we coming on that new razor material for the latest Mach 3000 men’s razor?”
Elwood: “Well, it took some effort but I think it was worth it: we obtained the finest materials from monolithic fossilized Ukranian spotted unicorn tails. After some processing with water from the Fountain of Youth cut with female baby leprechaun saliva, we believe we will be able to provide the softest shave imaginable.”
Manufacturing Manager: “Good, good. Make sure those are ABORIGINAL monolithic fossilized Ukranian spotted unicorns tails. We don’t want to half-ass it.”
Elwood: “Of course, sir.”
Elwood: “Sir, I believe it would be profitable to also produce a women’s razor. Women like to shave too. Well, that is I like it when women shave.”
Manufacturing Manager: “Good point, Elwood. I knew I hired you for a reason. Go take care of that too.”
Elwood: “What material should we use for the women’s razor?”
Manufacturing Manager: “Eh….I saw some old scrap metal in the alley behind McDonalds. I’m sure you can do something with that.”
Elwood: “Are you sure you want to go to that much trouble? The guys have some old tobacco tins they’ve collected in the bathroom urinal we could use….”
Manufacturing Manager: “Have a little respect, Elwood! A tobacco tin is a special, manly item to many of our staff. We don’t want to ‘chick it up’.”
Elwood: “yes sir, of course sir.”
Seriously. That’s what happened.
And Man razors are now my future.
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