Tuesday, May 25, 2010
The Razor's Edge...
The endorphins flowed early. I felt relaxed and refreshed when I finished. I couldn’t, however, have prepared myself for my wife’s heinous act of marital treason.
She used my newest razor to shave her legs.
The hot water felt good. I lathered up taking great care to cover every inch of my stubbly neck and face. My first warning something had gone awry was finding the razor on the bathtub ledge beside the soap and loofah or whatever that thing women exfoliate with is called.
She didn’t-not my shiny, sharp, never touched an epidermis before razor?
Oh yes… she did.
I mean, what is all that stuff in the cabinets used for anyway? Talk about oil spills. We have a disaster waiting in our powder room. I found tea tree oil, sweet oil, fresh and fruity x-virgin olive oil, and some other oil looking liquid/solid whose label I couldn’t read. That doesn’t even account for whatever all that other stuff is that I was too lazy to inspect.
Our bathroom looks like the old counter from the Sears and Roebuck women’s department.
During my investigation I did see an interesting bottle that seemed to have an identity crisis. It looked like some sort of cream, but the tag said warm vanilla sugar hand soap with green tea extract and shea butter. I didn’t know whether to eat it, drink it, or rub it on my newly formed facial abrasions.
It’s like corporate American got in an ingredient war.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my wife’s silky smooth legs and young looking appearance. In fact, she still revs my engine after twenty three years of knowing her and the three children she bore. She doesn’t look a day over twenty-nine and I wouldn’t care if she did anyway. And, I don’t mind sharing anything with her. She learned that early in our relationship when she never would order any food or drink, but would always eat or sip mine.