Buy The Fancy Razor

Although I make fun of my bib overall-wearing buddy for his "rigidity." i.e., his daily uniform of bib overalls, Carhartt t-shirts, love of routine, disdain for change, affinity for spreadsheets, and taking comfort in all things numbers, to name a few things he is rigid about, I, too, am a creature of habit. Although not rigid in my behaviors, my ADD won't allow for that, I do find something I like and I stick with it: my husband, for example...insert a giggle. I am also prone to finding products I like and sticking with them regardless of improvements and innovations.

For example, if I find a pair of shoes I love, I will purchase a pair in each of the basic colors; the same applies to pants, shirts, earrings, and so on. I will wear out my shoes before I buy a new pair. I have jeans older than my marriage. I have pajamas older than my child. I find a good thing and I stick with it. Now, I believe in quality over quantity. I think it's essential to purchase for the long haul. I'm not into quick fashion or trends...mostly. However, there are things I am stubbornly rigid about, like razors.

I have been using the same single-blade, cheap BIC razors since high school...that's a long time. I can still find them at discount stores. They're classic, no frills, do the job, last forever, and I am comfortable with them. My darling daughter laughs at my choice of razor. She giggles and says I must have alligator skin to be able to shave with those old relics. Her mockery is usually met with a raspberry and a light pinch on her upper arm. They are not luxurious, but they do the job.

While staying at the hotel in Ohio for the Shaker Woods Festival, I discovered I forgot my handy-dandy, old relic of a razor. I cannot stand not shaving every day. I hate the feel of stubble on my legs; it grosses me out. So, rather than be uncomfortable in my own skin all day, literally, I did what any good, loving wife would do. I took The Bibbed Wonder's razor and shaved my legs. Now, my bib overall-wearing buddy uses the Cadillac of razors. His razor has six blades, is flexible, has exceptional glide, and absolutely no drag. I had nary a nick or cut on my legs, even around my knees, after I was done. I was so impressed, I could not stop touching my legs. They felt like silk.

Of course, I couldn't tell Eric I used his razor. Telling him about my intrusion of such a sacred and personal hygiene tool that he covets like gold would lead to much drama. I kid you not, dear reader, when he got out of the shower after me, he asked me if I had used his razor because it "felt different." I am a bad liar. My voice goes up two octaves, I look overly innocent, and I act excessively nonchalant. I gave him a dismissive shoulder shrug and told him he was insane. He made his annoyed face. My husband has an annoyed face; I believe he saves just for me. I can't even explain it because it is so fleeting, but nevertheless, it is there. He knew, I knew, he knew I had used his razor, but I was not about to admit anything. I said in an all too high-pitched voice, "What?" with a little bit of attitude. He said, "You did! You're a terrible liar! I knew when I didn't see your cheap razor in the shower, you used mine! You ruined my blades on your alligator legs!" Well, that was rude. I told you he would be dramatic.

Rather than try to maintain the charade, I gushed about how awesome his razor is, how it glides and flexes, and makes my legs feel like silk. I tried to make him feel my legs, but he was pouting and refused. I declared I now understood why he is so protective of that razor, and I will never go back to using my cheap little single-blade BICS. He made the annoyed face a lot longer than usual. I used his razor all weekend without remorse.

As soon as we got home, I went to the store and bought myself my own six-bladed, flexible, glides like silk razor in the most lovely shade of lavender. Every day I think, how did I go decades and not welcome you into my world, you delightfully silky-smooth engineering wonder? Sigh. I still have my little single-blade BICS in a drawer in case of an emergency, but they are gathering dust. I have no regrets about switching allegiance to the fancy razor. If I can switch razors after almost forty years, The Bibbed Wonder had better watch his P's and Q's...insert a wink.

My point is, dear reader, it's the little things in life that make the day better, make you feel special, maybe a little pampered. Yes, the single-blade BIC does the job, but why not go ahead and use the six-blade miracle silk maker? A little luxury here and there is not a bad thing. If a razor can make you feel a little more cared for, confident, and better, why not? Life is short, buy the good razor, use the good soap, eat the cake (as a once-in-a-while treat, not a food staple). We're only here for a blink; we might as well enjoy it.

On this lovely September day, stay safe, be smart, enjoy the little luxuries in life, which include good razors and soap, and keep washing your hands.