I’ve used an electric shaver for my entire shaving life. My dad used an electric shaver, so it was only natural that I would too. I believe he had a Braun foil shaver when I started growing facial hair, so, just to be “different”, I got a Remington rotary shaver. It worked fine on my cheeks, but always left my neck raw. That should partly excuse the trouble I got into in high school for not shaving.

Eventually I switched to a Panasonic dual foil shaver with a pop-out trimmer (I think because my younger brother got one when he started shaving, and he wasn’t experiencing any neck irritation), and most of my problems went away—as long as I only shaved every other day. Shaving two days in a row is a recipe for raw skin, ingrown hairs, and little blemishes on my neck. No thanks. But it does mean that if I have an important event coming up (say a big meeting at work, or a wedding), I have to plan my shaves to make sure I don’t shave on the day before the event. Luckily not shaving is not so taboo anymore (no matter what Proctor & Gamble says), so nowadays I tend to shave twice a week, usually on Monday and Thursday mornings.

For the most part, I’m a big advocate of electric shavers, but there have been a few occasions where it’s been a limitation. On my second trip to France, I brought my rechargeable electric shaver, but I accidentally left the power adapter at home. Unfortunately the shaver only holds enough charge for about two and a half shaves, essentially enough for one week of use (we were there for two)—and I had to be shaved for Stephanie’s sister’s wedding! So I was forced to buy a cheap electric razor at the nearby corner store. It didn’t give me a perfect shave, but it was passable. I felt like such a tool, given the relative availability of cheap disposable razors, yet constrained by my inability to use them. Given this experience, I made sure to bring the power adapter with me on our trip last year, but it wasn’t until we got there that I realized it only accepted 120 volt power—France of course supplies 240 volt power. Once again I was stymied by my own technological dependency. So we had to make a special trip to hunt down a voltage converter.

A few months after that trip the notion of a “safety razor” entered my consciousness—as distinct from both a straight razor (that I’d experienced on the back of my neck at a barbershop in Carrboro, NC), and the multi-blade disposables (that I’d tried once in college—only to be left with a very raw cheek). I discovered at about the same time that Kyle was a recently converted safety razor aficionado, so I picked his brain for details. That was about a year ago. Eventually a safety razor made it onto my Christmas list and showed up in my stocking. Thanks Santa!

Which brings us to the present. On Sunday morning I took out my Merkur razor, Trumper shaving cream, and badger-hair brush for the first time and proceeded to give myself a safety razor shave. What a mind-blowing experience. First of all, it had been three days since I’d shaved last. Given how thick my facial hair grows, it was a little hard to get started. I was both afraid I’d cut myself, and completely unfamiliar with the feel of a razor against my face. It kind of pulls at the hair (which hurts!), something I avoid at all costs with an electric razor. I had only committed to doing one or both cheeks, but eventually I found my stride, and slowly and carefully worked all the way around my face, neck, and upper lip. It took a little over an hour.

For most of the time, I was like “Look at me: no blood!” (I’d heard some gory stories from Kyle), that is until I went over a tricky area on one side of my neck (which occasionally gets raw even with my electric shaver), and I ended up nicking a small patch of skin. Blood didn’t stream, but four to six tiny red dots bloomed and hung there. It was unnerving, but I didn’t feel a thing. The feeling came later. In fact all day Sunday and into Monday, my face was super-sensitive, please-don’t-touch-me, tingly. My neck definitely felt sensitive and a little itchy—though it didn’t look bad. By Monday night several blemishes had developed, and my neck was a mess of in-grown hairs, reminding me of the worst of my Remington rotary adolescence.

I’m probably going to alternate my shaving with my electric shaver during the week, and the safety razor on the weekends, just to give my skin a chance to adjust (and to allow myself the time to shave without the pressure of getting to work). I’m definitely curious about experimenting with some shaving oil, aftershave (how manly!), and of course different blades. I just popped in the Merkur blade that came with the razor, but I also have two boxes of Personnas (which may or may not be the real thing) to try out next.

I admit I’m still skeptical, but I’m willing to try it again once my face has healed. I have to say I really like the idea of being able to shave without electricity, whether that’s in France, out camping/backpacking, or just at home.

Thanks to Stephanie for the photos

It’s so weird to sweat, doing nothing. It reminds me of North Carolina. Walking home from work today was like a sensory experience I can’t quite begin to describe. I was wearing shorts, short sleeves, and the weather felt like all my favorite memories of weather. Sun setting, but the warmth persisting. No wind. If every day were like today, San Francisco would be absolutely perfect. The evening felt like a nice weekend afternoon, instead of the perpetual blustery autumn that is this exposed peninsula.

Of course it doesn’t hurt that I’m now drinking a glass of cool white wine, listening to the New Pornographers playing gently on the stereo in the next room, with all the windows open, hoping to create some sort of cross draft.

If you could do anything what would it be?

That’s what this weather seems to ask me. Heat makes me contemplative. I feel bold. I could make change. I don’t have to stay here, nesting, hibernating, trying to stay warm. I can go out.

Winters here are so subtle and mild they make me forget summer. And then summer comes and I turn into this machine of doing things, of squeezing the life out of every possible waking hour. But I still forget. Every winter. Spring pokes out its head and I throw up my arms. I don’t know what to do! I’m completely out of hibernation projects. I guess I just needed to go outside.

I appear to have that unusual cold. And it’s been a long time since I’ve caught anything, surprising even, given the several outbreaks that have spread through work. I’m not exactly sure what brought me down, since no one I know around me has a cold.

Stephanie had a nasty bout of food poisoning on Sunday, so I made her a homemade chicken broth then (chicken carcass and mirepoix and all!), which now feels like a self-fulfilling prophecy, as I’m the one enjoying it. Yesterday she took my broth and added chicken and noodles to it (once she was able to hold down solid foods) which I thought was a pretty cool collaboration.

Tonight the chicken soup ran out, so I figured I might as well keep the soup train going while I’m still well enough to cook. We had two leeks from our veggie box a while ago, as well as 3 old potatoes, both of which I simmered in chicken broth (store bought this time) before I pureed them in the food processor.

I’m really trying to be good to myself, drinking tons of fluids, taking Emergen-C in the morning, and most importantly getting lots of sleep. Which is another way of saying, it’s time. Good night.

Do you know someone who does?

Well then you should head over to Stephanie’s blog and read her post, Viva la Diva Cup! It just might change your life forever.