This is a sponsored post written by me on behalf of Gillette. All opinions are 100% mine with my standard disclosure.
I’m not aware of too many men who don’t shave at some point in their lives. Even when there’s a Hagrid-shaggy beard or ’70s-stylish Ron Burgundy ‘stache present, at times we must bust out the old razor and trim the hedges, so to speak. Being the Locker variety of Gnome, I don’t share my garden-loving cousins’ affinity for the proud display of a cascading bundle of whiskers that would only serve to tickle my pale, desk-shaded kneecaps and remind me of the need to shave more often. No, I’m a “once a day” shaver… sometimes even going for a second scrape if I have an evening function to attend. If I don’t do this, I end up looking like some sort of Stone Age, knuckle-dragging troglodyte. Remember Chaka from Land of the Lost? Kind of like that (though perhaps just a hair more hirsute).
I’ve heard from a few of you now that you don’t take your morning shave seriously. There are horror stories floating around online detailing the pain, bleeding, and cursing that some dudes put themselves through on a daily basis. Why are they using old, rusted blades? Why wouldn’t they simply buy a new one? Perhaps they’re clinging to tradition or an “old friend.” Maybe they just don’t like change. Whatever the reason, I personally think it’s crazy to torture your face. I can respect the idea of tradition, but even Tevya would take a pause in fiddling from yonder rooftop perch to ask what the heck is wrong with someone whose heartfelt attachment to a rustic, rusty antique outweighs an attachment to his own face.
As Mr. T would tell you: “A dull blade is a weapon – not a tool – fool!”
And sometimes people get crazy notions in their heads to circumvent the time-honored tradition of the blade, entirely. Scott from Chicago tells us that he once applied an Epilady to his face “just to see what would happen.” He’d heard women complaining about how painful it was, and his response was, “how painful could it possibly be?” As he soon discovered, having “even the shortest hairs” yanked out viciously “by the root” can reduce a burly, high school linebacker into a quivering lump of cranberry marmalade. “I’d be lying if I said I was crying like a little girl,” says Scott, “because I think a little girl would be able to tolerate that level of pain better than I could.”
Scott later joined the U.S. Marine Corps where boot camp was, he says, “a less harrowing ordeal in comparison.”
How do you shave? With the grain or against it (or both)? With an heirloom straight razor that was passed down from your great-great-great uncle (who used it during the Civil War), or will disposables from the 99 cent store do the trick? Do you buy a razor you love and then use it every day until it begs for mercy and falls apart in your hands, or do you slip the barber two bits to take care of business when you go in for a haircut every few months or so? Do you smear a burning chemical depilatory cream on your face, cross your fingers, and hope for the best, or do you maybe just take the most mundane (but sane) approach and replace your blades regularly?
I’m looking forward to trading horror stories. Let’s hear your worst shaving experience, and your views on how, when, and why you “trade up” to something different.