How I Ended Up in the Hospital the First Time I Shaved My Legs
Let me paint a picture: I'm on the brink of turning 11 years old, obsessed with fashion and beauty magazines, and the oldest of two girls. At this stage, my sister and I were still taking baths together, but because we were a bit older, my mom didn't watch us like a hawk the whole time.
It seemed like just another evening bath, or at least I thought. As a joke, my little sister dared me to shave my legs. Being the older sister, I've naturally been the leader and always wanted to put on a strong front. I've also always wanted to fit in and seem "cool," (and, at the time, my sister thought I was cool, so I had an image to maintain) so when my sister dared me to shave my legs, I pretended like I'd been shaving for years.
"I obviously know how to shave," I darted back at my sister before she could even finish her sentence, to which she replied, "Prove it."
The dare was officially on. At 11 years old, my only experience with shaving came from the teen magazines I would beg my mom to order for me, or asking my mom when I could start shaving and wear deodorant and a bra, all of which were totally unnecessary for me at the time given the fact that I was a late, late bloomer. I was familiar with what shaving does—and was eager to start shaving myself. At that age, we are all so eager to grow up—if only we knew, right? I had also seen my mom shave a few times, usually just a quick shave of her shin, so, naturally, that's where I decided to shave.
I remember picking up the razor and being nervous, but hiding the fear because #ego. I propped my foot up on the soap dish above the tub and took the razor to the middle of my shin. It all looked promising, that is until I applied too much pressure and went the opposite direction. In one single swoop I managed to shear through, basically, my entire epidermis down to my shin bone and blood was everywhere. My sister started screaming, I panicked and my mom came in, wrapped me up and took me to the hospital.
Also, she was mad.
Because of the nature of the cut, they weren't able to give me stitches. It was so freaking painful and I remember being really embarrassed in front of my family and then at school because we had swimming class and I wasn't able to participate during the weeks it took to heal. The sad part was that I also have baby blonde hair so it was totally unnecessary for me to shave in the first place, and the girls in my grade definitely made fun of me for it.
And, TBH, shaving sucks. It's one of my least favorite grooming rituals, especially the armpits, and I'm envious of my 11-year-old, hair-free body.
Moral of the story: definitely have a parent show you how to shave your first time and never accept a dare that involves sharp objects. Never.
When in doubt, always go to an expert for hair removal—HERE's what one has to say.