Acceptance. It comes with age. Over the years I’ve claimed that I tend to like many of the same things guys tend to like……golf, the great smell of a leather chair, remote controls, football, cursing, and suits. I’m all about the menswear trend in female fashions. Give me a great looking pinstripe suit and some saddle oxfords and I’m set. I’m eccentric enough to even think the look is sexy on me. I dressed up as ‘Napoleon Dynamite’ for a fundraiser in my town and did his famous dance. A dynamite Napoleon Dynamite.
My latest foray into ‘man-dom’ is shaving. Nope, not talking bikini waxes or shaving legs. I’m talking full on face shaving. I know….gasp!……are women supposed to do such things? OK, here is the evolution of my face shaving. As a woman of a certain age (I won’t mention the ‘M’ word) I started noticing peach fuzz on my face and neck. The stubble was offensive and I submitted to painful waxing about once a month. My redheaded, freckled-faced skin was not partial to the procedure and protested with lots of redness and swelling. Not wanting to endure the waxing, I began slinking around the shower and bathroom furtively grabbing my razor to conquer the fuzzies. I felt guilty and ashamed. What if my peach fuzz turned into Blackbeard? What if an unsure hand cut my face and left a disfiguring scar?