Let’s just outlaw razors. Amiright, people?

Pretty much everyone I know, except for my grandparents and the weird cat that hangs out on my front steps, is obsessed with Pinterest these days (Grandparents and cat, Pinterest is a website on the Internet that is like a virtual bulletin board where people put pictures of recipes, crafts, inspiring quotes and cats) Among the boards about preemie babies hugging and buffalo chicken mac and cheese recipes, I have a style board.

I was looking at it the other day and thought “Internet Me is super stylish” and then I laughed because in real life my style motto is: “DOES THIS HAVE AN ELASTIC WAISTBAND?” Really classy and trendy. I also thought about how many cute pants outfits I had pinned up there. I usually hate pants (unless they are leggings with the aforementioned elastic waistband) but I SHOULD love pants because not only do I hate dressing myself, but I hate shaving my legs.

I like to trace back my leg shaving aversion to an episode I like to call “The Unfortunate Shaving Situation featuring an Awkward Girl in her Pre-teens” – or something similar…

There are three important things to remember about this incident:

1. My hair as a girl was super light, like white blond light so I really shouldn’t have been worried about shaving my legs.

2. I’m a terrible liar.

3. I am very susceptible to peer pressure.

When I was 11 or 12, I decided that I would absolutely die if I didn’t shave my legs because ALL of my friends were doing it. I mean, how embarrassing that my legs were so hairy even though you probably couldn’t even see the hair unless you got super close up. I don’t know how many times I asked my mom if I could shave – it could have been once, it could have been literally a thousand – but the “yes” didn’t come fast enough and I was going to figure it out on my own.

I had the perfect plan, which was to sneak into my parents bathroom while we had people over, probably family, and just do it. I mean, it’s just like dad shaving his face, right? Super easy.

The razors in my parent’s bathroom might as well have been those straight razors from an old school barbershop. I think it only had like one or two blades. What the hell, 80s?!? How did anyone shave back then without 52 lotion-covered soft blades for her comfort?

I lathered up one of my legs with half a can of shaving cream, filled a cup of water to rinse off the blade like I had seen my dad do a million times and got to work.

When I say got to work, I mean that I was scrapping that razor along my legs doing just fine until I got to….THE SHIN. And took off a huge chunk of skin in the process. 2011 Me would have screamed out loud something along the lines of MOTHER F$%*&#, GOD $%&#*$. 12-year-old me probably whimpered with a stunned look on her face and almost passed out.

Not only did it hurt like a son of a bitch, but I was bleeding everywhere. So I did what anyone who is a horrible liar and a panicker would do: I threw the razor in the cabinet under the sink, wiped up the water around the sink, tried to clean up my leg. It wouldn’t stop bleeding so, admitting defeat, I finally had to tell my mom.

WHAT HAPPENED?

Well, Mom, I cut my leg on the cabinet door trying to get something out of the bathroom.

That was literally the worst lie I have ever told. I have a 7-inch gash on my leg and the best I could do was that I cut it on a wooden door? KIDS ARE SO STUPID.

So my mom came back to look at the door with me and immediately knew what happened. Probably because I left the cup of shaving cream water on the counter and she promptly found the razor with a chunk of skin in it. I was busted.

I remember that my mom had to shave my legs for me the next time after that, which at that age was mortifying, but thinking about it now, I would love to have someone shave my legs all the time so I didn’t have to do it. Just like getting braces or your period, shaving your legs is THE WORST once you actually have to do it.

Viva la pants!