I hate being unshaved. It’s a body care. Don’t get me wrong, but I belong to the white race. I don’t want to have nest or wood on my body. It’s the 21st century, people! I don’t want to overreact, but over 60% of the boys from my generation from Zlox shave themselves. It’s only a period. Not even half a year. And it’s not sth that should be done every day. Just once a week. 15 minutes per week. Then why not? Why I don’t shave?
Let’s see the root of the problem. Fear. That’s the biggest reason. I’m afraid to tell my parents that I don’t want to think about that anymore, I just want to do it! I don’t have a razor. They should buy me one (because I almost never buy anything). And foam, of course. How will they react? My father doesn’t shave. Reaction is the second reason. Looks like everyone will notice. To some of them it’ll be the same. But what with those who will ask me or start a discussion about that? Like Michael “You shaved. When? … Did you shave the whole body? … Now you have to shave regularly. That’s why I don’t shave.” And he will tell his relatives – females in general. I’m always afraid of the moment of happening, although I know it would be past one day. And the third reason – probably the obligation to do that thing at a certain time, more times. But that’s how we are. With hair. And shaving should make us distinct from the animals. Looking the structure of the human hair through the body once, made me think that we came from the monkeys, but because I believe in God, I think the human was made just after the monkey was.
I think of that more times during the day than of sex. I think of shaving everytime when I look my arms and my legs and everytime when I see a male in the summer, I compare myself to him. Is he shaved or I don’t see well, I wonder. My point is I wish I was shaved and I wouldn’t think of that so often.
The whole thing about shaving and me started when I noticed that moustache were growing up to me some time in February this year. They continued to grow and my shame because of having them was becoming bigger. I thought “I would look people in face if only I haven’t this moustache..” They only look, they don’t talk to me about that (One of them was Andrea – the girl who was sitting next to me.). They were becoming more noticeable when I wetted them. And I started to look myself in a mirror more often. I was waiting for someone to say sth to me about that. In fact, I omitted a situation. One day in April I was sitting on a bench and Kathy (a classmate) sat next to me with two friends of hers and during the conversation she asked: “Nike, why don’t you shave?” I said “I’m shy to open an issue about that.” She repeated me in a question. I wanted to say “I don’t have a RAZOR.” Renee (the friend) said: “He doesn’t have beard.” Kathy responded: “How do you mean he doesn’t?”, putting two of her fingers above her mouth, showing from two sides in one direction – down. I didn’t look directly at her – with my head, but my eyes were headed in her direction, so I saw that. The other friend Melanie was neutral. She changed the subject with a question. I don’t remember which. After a while I stood up, I said “mum is gonna wait for me”. Kathy commented: “We ashamed the kid”. They did. She did. I left.
In May couldn’t wait anymore and I cut the moustaches with scissors after bathing. I didn’t do it again for Italy. Now I do it every time when I want.
Yesterday my cousin Steven came. He talked about shaving. Now I think “How similar we are.” He asked my grandma “Do you shave?” She replied “No.” He was amazed. She said she didn’t have hair, men had. He added that his mother shaved and asked me if mum shaved. I said “I think so. Yes.” Grandma said “She shaves” at the same time.
And what about me and shaving? I want to stroke that razor through my body. I want to feel like a 21st century boy. I want to shave.