I am still amazed my mom would actually stock me up with shaving cream and a razor, considering I am absurdly klutzy when it comes to stuff like this.
for example,
I must have been around 5 or 6... maybe?
taking a shower. you know the drill.
when I spy...
mommy's razor.
squirting out WAY too much cream, I smear it all over my legs,
grab this razor,
and angle it at my leg.
when *prick*.
I get my finger instead.
So first, sensible me, I wash away all evidence of cream,
and THEN
I start howling.
since then, I was so paranoid, I wouldn't stand to be in the same tub with a razor.
I'd make my mom take it out.
now, of course, I'm not fearful.
but I should be, considering the regularity of nicking myself.
EMBRACE THE PAIN.
haha jk.
but still.
I guess I'll never get any smarter ;]
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1 comment:
You should write a book. Like one of those journals a teen wrote for teens like ourselves, haha. Seriously, you're someone my age who ISN'T a total moron. Whoa. And you read my blog. Score. :-)
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