diamond geezer

 Tuesday, November 29, 2005

A close shave

It was the sight of blood in the shaving mirror yesterday morning which suggested that I'd finally solved my Christmas present problem. Surely my upper lip shouldn't be bleeding, not while I was using an electric razor. But closer inspection revealed that there was a tiny raised tear in the metal foil cover, just about half a centimetre long, creating an unintentional extra blade. With each sweep of the shaver head I was busy scraping away the top layer of skin from various parts of my face, leaving behind red grazed blotches and minor lacerations. Probably best to stop and buy a new razor, then.

I'm blessed in that I don't really need to shave every day. What facial fuzz I do have is dark and bristly, but it grows thinly in sparse patches. My five o'clock shadow generally takes until 5pm the following evening to appear. I couldn't possibly grow a goatee because the hairs on my upper lip don't join up with the hairs on my lower chin. To grow a full beard would be completely impossible because, even at the age of forty, the crucial coverage zones on my lower face have yet to spawn any productive hair follicles. And sideburns are out, unless I were to cut strips from a doormat and superglue them to my face. To be honest, even some grandmothers have more facial hair than I do (although I do probably still have a bit more than Geoff).

Nevertheless, as I mopped up tiny globules of blood from my cheek using a folded sheet of toilet paper, my thoughts turned to replacing my defunct razor. I've never been a great fan of wet shaving, not just because of the regular razorblade outlay but also because of the increased occurrence of bogroll dabbing. Neither have I ever felt the urge to daub stinging aftershave all over my freshly mown chin and then to spend the rest of the day smelling like the front of a department store. No, a good old plain and simple electric razor is all I need.

The electric razor is a staple of the festive male grooming gift list. There's always a better, sharper, smoother model on the market, and if three blades were de rigeur last Christmas it's almost certain that nothing less than four will do this year. No matter whether or not the man in your life needs a new Remington, Braun or Philishave - just buy him one anyway and chuck his old shaver onto the nearest landfill site. But I couldn't wait for Christmas to get hold of my new razor. Stubble grows at one-hundredth of an inch every day, which would have meant that by December 25th I'd be plagued by sparse straggly bristles a quarter of an inch long sticking out of bits of my chin. No, an urgent trip to Argos was called for, yesterday evening after work.

It's not always easy to tell from the tiny photograph in the Argos catalogue exactly what the products in their store really look like. And so when my new electric shaver finally trundled down the conveyor belt and into view, I noticed that I appeared to have just bought a product aimed at somebody half my age. The packaging looked more like that to be found around an over-colourful Easter egg, and the box was littered with copious references to music festivals and extreme sports. Back home, once I'd finally broken through the outer plastic wrapper, the electrical device inside appeared to have been lifted from the set of a 90s sci-fi movie. Most worrying of all was the full colour 'shave, style and trim' leaflet advising me of the correct way to carve a 'chin curtain', 'soulpatch', 'Lincolnic' and several other stubbly styles.

I think I've inadvertently picked up the equivalent of a 'My First Electric Razor' gift pack aimed fair and square at the emergent adolescent. You'll remember those kids in your class who sported full chest hair and a moustache at the age of 13, while the rest of us were still waiting for something more than just acne to sprout from our smooth pores? My new shiny shaver is targetted at these maturing teenagers, keen to shape their budding bumfluff into ever more ridiculous forms of facial topiary. Some of us just never caught up. Ah well, I'm sure I'll be mature enough one day to be able to take advantage of my razor's full functionality. Let me go and see if it's finished charging, and then maybe I can trim myself a 'chinstrap' before work.

<< click for Newer posts

click for Older Posts >>

click to return to the main page

...or read more in my monthly archives
Jan18  Feb18  Mar18  Apr18  May18  Jun18
Jan17  Feb17  Mar17  Apr17  May17  Jun17  Jul17  Aug17  Sep17  Oct17  Nov17  Dec17
Jan16  Feb16  Mar16  Apr16  May16  Jun16  Jul16  Aug16  Sep16  Oct16  Nov16  Dec16
Jan15  Feb15  Mar15  Apr15  May15  Jun15  Jul15  Aug15  Sep15  Oct15  Nov15  Dec15
Jan14  Feb14  Mar14  Apr14  May14  Jun14  Jul14  Aug14  Sep14  Oct14  Nov14  Dec14
Jan13  Feb13  Mar13  Apr13  May13  Jun13  Jul13  Aug13  Sep13  Oct13  Nov13  Dec13
Jan12  Feb12  Mar12  Apr12  May12  Jun12  Jul12  Aug12  Sep12  Oct12  Nov12  Dec12
Jan11  Feb11  Mar11  Apr11  May11  Jun11  Jul11  Aug11  Sep11  Oct11  Nov11  Dec11
Jan10  Feb10  Mar10  Apr10  May10  Jun10  Jul10  Aug10  Sep10  Oct10  Nov10  Dec10 
Jan09  Feb09  Mar09  Apr09  May09  Jun09  Jul09  Aug09  Sep09  Oct09  Nov09  Dec09
Jan08  Feb08  Mar08  Apr08  May08  Jun08  Jul08  Aug08  Sep08  Oct08  Nov08  Dec08
Jan07  Feb07  Mar07  Apr07  May07  Jun07  Jul07  Aug07  Sep07  Oct07  Nov07  Dec07
Jan06  Feb06  Mar06  Apr06  May06  Jun06  Jul06  Aug06  Sep06  Oct06  Nov06  Dec06
Jan05  Feb05  Mar05  Apr05  May05  Jun05  Jul05  Aug05  Sep05  Oct05  Nov05  Dec05
Jan04  Feb04  Mar04  Apr04  May04  Jun04  Jul04  Aug04  Sep04  Oct04  Nov04  Dec04
Jan03  Feb03  Mar03  Apr03  May03  Jun03  Jul03  Aug03  Sep03  Oct03  Nov03  Dec03
 Jan02  Feb02  Mar02  Apr02  May02  Jun02  Jul02 Aug02  Sep02  Oct02  Nov02  Dec02 

eXTReMe Tracker
jack of diamonds
Life viewed from London E3

» email me
» follow me on twitter
» follow the blog on Twitter
» follow the blog on RSS

my flickr photostream