My Shaven Life

I've been shaving my head since I was 21 years old. I stood in the bathroom of the house in which I rented a room, surrounded by rotting wood, a split floor and exposed pipes, and took a small beard trimmer to my head. I got stuck halfway through and had to go to Great Clips to get it finished. The hairdresser assumed it was a prank gone wrong and I didn't correct her.

At work it was suggested to me that I put some aloe vera on my freshly shaven head and that hurt like a bitch. Over the years I've tried more and less successful methods for shaving. Single-bladed disposable razors. Nair which, after repeated applications to get rid of all the hair, ended up burning through the top layer of skin. And an electric shaver which worked, but took too long.

What I've ended up with is hot water and a triple-bladed disposable razor. It can't be any razor, though. The first brand I tried was made by Bic, but I had to find something new once it was discontinued. Then there was this green and black jobbie, I think it was a generic from Wal-Mart, but it never worked right. Now I use the generic from Target which works great.

Here's what I do. Standing in front of the mirror, I turn on the hot water, make it really hot, and run it over my hands until it hurts. Spread the water over my face and head, feel the heat, smoothing out any bumps and removing debris. Once I'm well wet, I take either a fresh razor or one that's only been used once and begin at the left center of my forehead running back and toward the ear. There is a pronounced bump on that side of my head so I have to run over it slowly. The blades cut just as well that was as quick.

It's important to continually wetten the head and follow behind the blade with my hand. This helps as either therapy, cleanliness or habit.

If I've kept up with my shaving, there isn't much hair to remove so when I bring the razor down for the first time I can tap it on the side of the sink basin and remove the smudges of hair. It needs to be a forceful tap, repeated several times, to scoot the hair out, but if it is too harsh the blade will fall off. If this happens, it can easily be replaced, snapped back into the clasps.

Repeat the same pattern with the right side, moving toward the ear. Now that the top is clear, I turn my head and imagine that this is what I'd look like as an older man, losing just the hair on the top of my head. I rinse out the blade again.

If there is too much hair between the blades, I take a q-tip, or ear-picker as I like to call it, and brush it from right to left along the blades to remove the hair. Rinse.

Now it's time for the sides. On the left side, I begin behind the ear and move up toward the temple. Then I draw up from the top of the sideburn toward the top and continue moving back until I've removed all of the hair visible on that side in the mirror.

When shaving around the ears it is very important that I do not cut my lobes. For some reason if I slice even the smallest portion of skin away there, it will bleed for hours. At the same time, the little hairs at the top part of the ear, where it connects to the rest of the head, are elusive and require special attention. And even with the stated danger, I still use the razor to remove the small, coarse hairs from inside my ear. I just know how to cut.

I do not shave my face at the same time as shaving my head. Shaving my face doesn't require as fresh of a razor and I actually use shaving cream for that, so it's easier to do it separately.

Moving to the other side, I begin at the sideburn and move up, then diagonally from there to the top portion toward the back of the head. It's almost the opposite pattern from the left side. Same precautions must be taken around the ear.

The back of the head is the most dangerous. Beware. There isn't much I can do to prevent nicks and scratches here, except to keep a regular routine that doesn't call for shaving more often than a few days. I move from the top of the neck up, hoping for the best.

The hair on the back of the head tends to be thickest. I can't go over an area too much because that's how it gets cut. I'll do one strip, rinse, and move on to the next. The worst is the pit right at the base of the skull.

If I'm lucky, I'm completely clear at this point without any pain, although I can have bleeding without even feeling it. To check I'll take a paper towel, folded at the middle, wettened, and press it to the back of my head, and then look for spots of blood.

I'll get the neck, too. It's funny. I have two moles on my neck, but the razors never cut them, however, if I were using an electric, they'd get nicked every time.

Aftercare is very important. Using Noxema face wash, preferably in the shower, I'll lather my entire head and let it sit for several minutes until it tingles. This either helps stop the bleeding, or gives me that illusion. If I've had any cuts, I will not rub my head dry after rinsing. I either let it air dry or blot it.

Since I was old enough to feel self-conscious about my appearance I've disliked my hair. Getting it cut, the woman would always comment, "Oh, I wish I had curls like yours!" The reason for this outpouring remains a womanly mystery to this day, since I've always wanted straight hair that I could grow long. My hair doesn't get longer, it just expands.

This wasn't always true. As a young boy, my hair laid flat on my head. It was golden and glorious. Even as a baby, with just thin wisps, I was more dapper in appearance, like someone off of Mad Men. Just smaller.

But as I matriculated, there was less and less i could do with my coiffure so I wore hats most of the time. I think that's why my hair started to thin at the front. And so, frustrated, I decided to try the daring thing, the dangerous, the dastardly, shaving for that first time.

People commented that I had the head for it, round and bold. I became intimidating, once offered a job as a bouncer in the city. The ladies loved to rub it and it loved to rub them back.

I don't think I'll ever stop. Partly because I like the look and partly because every time I try growing it back, it makes me look about 10 years older than I am. I'd rather put up with the maintenance and never having to buy shampoo, conditioner or brushes ever again. Bald and beautiful, baby.