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Wednesday, August 15, 2012


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I remember my first time like it was yesterday. I had watched other guys do it.  Actually I saw my father do it several times.

Getting it right was important for I knew if I messed up someone would find out and tell on me.  I went over each step in my mind several times until I was ready to risk it.

It was with much trepidation I took down my fathers shaving mug. How hard could this be? I rehearsed each step in my mind again, get the water hot, put some in the mug, take the shaving brush and stir it around like stirring chocolate into milk to make hot chocolate. When it gets real foamy it is ready.

There was one step I almost missed and that was putting the hot towel on my face to soften my five year old whiskers. I took the brush and put foam on my face and as I did so I thought this is a good disguise, no one could tell it was me.

The soap began to dry and the moment of truth had arrived, it was either wash it off or get on with the job at hand.

I had went this far before till stark fear set in and I called it all off but this time my resolve was set in stone. I steadied my hand as I reached for dad's straight edge razor and then reached for the razor strap. I wanted it to be sharp so it would cut my heavy beard.

I never realized how hard it was to hold onto the razor once it was opened, the blade and the handle seemed to have a mind of its own. I held it the best I could and tried not to cut the razor strap while sharpening it. My soapy face was getting drier and I knew I should hurry but that razor was unwieldy and hard to handle.

Finally it was time, I couldn't put it off any longer. I could see in my minds eye how my dad drew the razor from his ear down his cheek and here I went.

While watching my dad, when he would cut himself he would take a small piece of toilet paper and stick it on the cut until it stopped bleeding. About a half roll of toilet paper later I was finished and my expertise with a straight edge was evident. I'm happy to report that I was a fast healer and soon I was recognizable again.

I put everything away and after my mother got over her horror - - things went back to normal.

Even though this was my first effort I did such a good job I didn't need another shave for about ten years.

There is a nervousness about all first times, and the one I'm most nervous about is the first time I am actually in the presence of the nail scarred body of Christ in heaven.

This post has been shared at:  Joy’s Wednesday; Flaws and Nakedness 
Do visit there!

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