REVIEW: TODAY’S SHAVE

It had been four days since my last shave and as I tumbled into bed last night I hoped that sleep would come quickly, so that I would be rid of the itching which had beset me in my last few hours of coffee-swilling, paper-writing, tension-wanking consciousness. I knew that whatever time I rose, and no matter who else needed the bathroom, today I would shave.

Ignoring Philip Larkin’s dictum that all writers ought to shave at the sink, I brought my Sensor Excel II into the shower with me. The blade is newish; this was perhaps my third shave with it:
enough time for me to get used to its efficiency but not enough time for that efficiency to be replaced by familiarity.

I lathered with Lever 2000. The keen observer of my toilet might wonder why I passed up the Tom’s of Maine Gentle Honeysuckle sitting on the shelf—after all, it has moisturizing glycerine. The answer is simple, though perhaps revealing nothing but my own idiosyncracy: for several weeks I have been obsessed with the notion that despite the complete disparity between their labeled contents, my Gentle Honeysuckle Shaving Cream and my Gingermint Toothpaste are in fact identical in makeup.

The first cut was not the deepest, but still a satisfying rake against my imperialist whiskers. I approached the right cheek from the side, to clear room for the downward sweep, and that sweep went smooth as could be. Hair cleaved fell, and thus began the shave. Forgoing the ordeal of wiping off the foggy mirror, a combination of touch and intuition was my guide as I scythed the unwanted fields of manhood.

The rhythmic up-and-downing of the frontal neck –where most of my Semitic roots manifest— progressed as ruthlessly as the right side had, and as the left side would. I left my what we will call my moustache (though it qualifies about as much as it did when I was a swaggering
eighth-grader) for afterward: something about the unseen razor’s proximity to my lips unnerved me.


Concluding my shower after approximately twenty-five minutes, I did in fact use the Tom’s of Maine for the upper lip area, but due to improper lathering I was horrified at its graininess. ( did my best not to ingest any, and largely succeeded.) I remembered to whisk away the errant wisps midway up my neck (a frequent irritant), and a visual check brought me a much-needed dose of morning
pride: as I had hoped, my jowls were clean, and DEVOID OF BLOOD.

The ritual of shaving is a trying one for many a man; it is mornings like this which transcend, and transport.

Vigilance,
Correspondent Aaron T.