Anymore, I hesitate to shave my legs. The feel of satiny soft gams feels almost as good as crawling in bed with fresh sheets. You know, bedgasm (n) a feeling of euphoria experienced when climbing into bed at the end of a very long day.
I know this feeling all too well. Long sigh...
The time was now, to purchase a new razor. Six months with one razor is basically like using sand paper, over and over one spot, to assure smooth legs.
Five blades, the new razor has five blades. Is this really necessary? You feel me, don't you? You know the little trip I'm about to take.
Legs lathered, I shave, peeling very thin slices of epidermis off my leg. My thigh bears the first three blades' bloody marks, to this day. (This was a week ago.) Apparently the fourth blade is to give fair warning before the fifth blade rolls tender skin, like skin off of a potato, or carrot. This all takes place in about 2.4 seconds. Really there's no time to stop shaving, especially with my fast cat-like reflexes. Looking down, watery shower-blood is slipping down said thigh. Get the transfusion ready.
Opening my shower curtain, Maggie Rose and George W look a bit concerned. Well, Maggie looked concerned. George licked his paw and rolled over on his side. I think he was waiting for fresh prey to exit the shower.
I survived, applying a tourniquet tightly around my upper thigh. Not really. But dang, it didn't feel real spiffy.
I've own microplanes that didn't do to lemons what this razor did to my leg.
Buyer beware. Do not be all aggressive with your new razor until you've practiced a bit, learned the lay of the land. Take your time.
Two or three blades should suffice. Not five.
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