There are certain things that we as children look forward to in our adult life. I clearly remember several different matters that I couldn't wait to take on at the proper age!
What girl doesn't dream of the first kiss, of falling in love and being whisked away to a far off land by the Prince of her dreams?
I remember when I was about 10 years old, sitting in the kitchen waiting for my laundry to finish washing so I could put it in the drier. I clearly recal thinking "I feel so grown up. Someday I'll be paying my own bills and I'll have my own place and I'll be able to forget about my laundry if I want." Turns out that's a remarkably bad idea.
I remember wanting to learn how to drive. All kids dream of that one I think. I was no different. Yes, I wanted to drive. I was 19 before I finally got my license, but I remember how I dreamed of having four (or two) wheels beneath me and driving off into the sunset with a convertible top down, the pedal to the metal, the wind in my hair. Been there, done that... and I got the speeding ticket to prove it. That's what I get for having a red convertible I guess.
I wanted to have my own place where I could make the rules, eat what I want, do what I want, go where I want, and have the pets that I decided to have. So now I'm working so much to be able to afford the place that I have that I don't have the time to make the rules other than not letting the cats up on the kitchen counter, I eat on the go because I mostly either don't have the time or don't feel like making anything to eat after such a long day, I don't do much of anything fun because I'm too busy working all the time, the first time I've gone anywhere on vacation in YEARS was this year, and the pets that I've decided to have are luckily so independant that they don't need me that much. They mostly rely on one another - it's a good thing with as much as I have to work in order to afford that place so I can make the rules, eat what I want, do what I want, go where I want and have the pets that I want.
There's something else I really looked forward to as a kid that didn't turn out all that great, either...
I was staying at Uncle Mark's house with my friend Jannessa the first time I experienced shaving. I'd always seen razors in my Mom and Dad's bathroom, but we never had any in ours because my brother and I were too young. I remember walking into my Mom and Dad's room once as a kid where my mom was sitting at the foot of her bed using an electric ladies leg shaver just to get the couple of spots on her shin she had missed in the shower. She went round and round in circles as I watched, always over the same spots trying to get one or two stubborn places. I asked why she shaved her legs and her answer was, "because I'm not French, Honey." I didn't get it then, but today it makes me laugh.
I had gone to Uncle Mark's place for the weekend while Mom and Dad were out of town, and Jannessa's older sister had a razor in the bathroom. I sat there in the tub taking a bath for a long time just looking at it. Curious, I picked it up and touched the blades with my finger tip. I was about 12 at the time. I didn't understand how a razor worked, but I was determined to learn. I had seen Mom go round and round with hers, was that how it worked?
I placed the blades against my leg and pulled gently. I didn't see anything happen, and the long blond hairs on my leg stayed in place. I thought perhaps I was doing it wrong, so I put the razor back at the bottom of my calf muscle on the inside of my leg and tried again.
Jannessa knocked on the door to see if I was ok and my hand slipped, dragging the blades sideways. With that razor, I opened a full 4 inch gash up the side of my leg that bled like crazy! I wanted the bleeding to stop, so I pushed my leg under the surface of the bath water.
"I'm fine," I shouted to Jannessa through clenched teeth. The soap and shampoo in the water made that 4 inch gash really come alive. My skin crawled and danced under the water, rippling the surface like a pebble in a lake. I yanked my leg out of the water and watched the blood flow easily from the wound. It streamed like a river of wine, dropping into the bath water and turning it the color of pink lemonade. My stomach turned.
I stood up to towel off, but the only towel available was white. I didn't dare dry off with that! I grabbed wads of toilet paper to mop at the blood streaming down my leg onto the floor. Bits of tissue clung to my skin and wound, and when I tried to drag them off with more tissue, I only ended up with smaller and smaller bits clinging to the inside, and a searing pain that made me stop what I was doing.
I think I finally called Jannessa into the bathroom once I was wrapped in the towel to show her what I had done. She grabbed a couple of large bandaids and we were able to pinch the skin together with them enough to slather on the Neosporin.
For some reason I still looked forward to shaving my legs someday in the future. I knew it wouldn't turn out like that once I knew what I was doing, but that first time I was miserable.
Shaving is a burdensome chore for me now. I hate having to do it in the shower. If I have to shave, I'd much rather do it while comfortably sitting in the bath. Unfortunately I don't have a bath, so I end up either doing it while standing, or sitting on the shower floor after it's had a good scrubbing (I'm paranoid about shower floors). I know better than to slide a razor up the side of my leg now, thankfully. But shaving is time consuming and I typically wear long pants all the time anyway, so sometimes I let it go for a few days. Nobody is going to see my bare legs anyhow. If I let it go for too long, though, I start to feel very dirty even after finishing a head-to-toe full wash down in the shower.
I hate shaving.
I hate having to pay bills.
Sometimes I hate living alone.
I really dislike doing my laundry.
There are times I wish I didn't have to drive.
But I know my Prince is still coming to whisk me away to a far off land. Maybe he'll have a Fairy Godmother cast a spell on me so I never have to shave my legs again.