I remember when I was 14, and my face was covered in peach fuzz. My father, while finding it comical, decided it was time to teach me to shave. At first, he showed me how to use an electric razor. Let’s be honest here, peach fuzz doesn’t take much effort to remove. After a month, by beard began to come in thicker (and thicker since. Three shaves is the most I get out of a blade). So, my father taught me the traditional wetshave. It was a great experience, as I felt like I was taking part in an age-old ritual, known only between fathers and sons. It began with how to properly prepare my face, then how to make a nice, thick lather. Then, how to shave with the grain. Re-lather for the second pass, and go against the grain. Rinse off my face, and slap on some Old Spice. The sting of the aftershave was the most memorable, because I never will forget how good it smelled and much it burned. My father giggled about it, and said I’d get used to it. Well, I did.
Thanks Dad, for teaching me how to be a man.