I try shaving my legs for the first time in Grandma Raab's bathroom before I go into the 7th grade. I fail miserably at it, nicking myself twice and learning how much a shaving cut will hurt even after the bleeding stops. I thought it would be like how I shave my underarms but find the contours of the legs much harder to navigate than a pit. A week later I confess to my cousin, Sarah, that I am petrified to try again and she assures me it just takes some practice. We get in our bathing suits and sit in her bathtub and she carefully shows me how to shave properly. She is the only person to this day that I have ever allowed near me with a blade. Sarah cautiously shaves my shins without nicking me and gives me confidence to try again on my own later in my shower. A week later as Moma and I sit on the stairs talking, my mom rests her hand on my leg and notices the smoothness. I get embarressed as I tell her that all the other girls are starting to shave and I looked so hairy compared to them. She then takes me upstairs and gives me a lotion bottle, letting me in on the feminine secret that rubbing lotion on your legs after a shave makes them even smoother. Fast forward to our 7th grade trip when Annie places her hand on my knee to get my attention and looks shocked at how evenly her hand runs back on forth on my skin. "Smooth!" she exclaims. "Nantucket Briar lotion," I reply.
And since that fateful day of Moma opening my eyes to the wonders of lotion, I make sure to lather myself up real good whenever I exit the shower. Of course the process of lotioning has reached extreme OCD measures with me using six different lotions and moisturizers in certain locations of my body with rules on how they are used and applied. At the end of the ritual I clap once which signifies the completion of the act of lotioning and Steve sighs dramatically from the other room with a: "Finally!"
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