My first Barber shave

ClubmanRob said:

Once is all it took to bar me from letting anyone shave me.

I went to a barbershop for a standard haircut. He pointed out my three-month old beard. "I'm not using to seeing you with a beard during the summer. You want me to line it up for you?"

"Nah, I'm just going to go home and shave it off." Then he offered a straight razor shave. Sure, I thought. You only live once right?

He misted a couple of towels with a sprayer bottle and then put them in the micorowave (!) for about a minute. He wrapped them around my face and I almost screamed. Man, I like it hot, but I don't want to feel like you poured gas on my face and lit a match. After my skin finished melting I tried to relax.

The barber pulls out a straight razor from a murky jar of Marvicide and rinses it off under the sink. He started stropping the razor and I asked him what type of soap he used. "None, I have a hot lather machine." OK, cool. I turn to look at it and it's one of those 20 dollar Conair hot lather tubes that you can get at Wal-Mart. (Or used to be able to get, I don't know if they still manufacture it or not.)

He takes the towels off my face and starts lathering me up. I smell the familiar scent of Barbasol Aloe which causes my face to break out like crazy. "Hey, you got any other cream? This kind gives me a rash." He claims it isn't Barbasol Aloe but Gillette Foamy. Whatever.

He starts slapping the lather on my face like I owed him money. He puts one of the hot wet towels on my chest, which causes a big wet puddle to form on my shirt. He starts shaving near my sideburns but he's not stretching my skin at all. I hear him scraping away at my cheeks and jaw.

Then he gets to my neck. "Hey, please don't shave my neck north to south. My hair grows really strange there. Start at my adam's apple and head north." He tells me how he's mapped my beard and knows how to shave me without causing any irritation. Why shouldn't I trust him? I mean, he's a professional and all and I'm just a dumb 20 year old who shaves himself everyday with a straight razor and knows what his skin can take or can't take, right?

The whole time the blade is just tugging and skipping over my face. I asked him if he needed to strop the razor again. Nope. Tug, tug, skip, cut, nick, scrape, skip, tug. My God, this is downright painful. By the time he's done, he's basically done a one pass blade buff all over my face in a zillion different directions.

He towels my face off and I know I'm in for trouble because the white towel had a few dark red spots on it. He slaps some Lustray Bay Rum on me and raises the chair. He removes the bib-thing off my torso and instead of offering me a mirror, he starts rubbing my shoulders. I'm freaking out now. I was the only person in there. Why was this old man rubbing my neck and shoulders? And then, it's all over.

He hands me a mirror and I look at his handiwork. My face is beet red, with a bunch of ingrown hairs and a thick rash all over my neck. He sliced off part of a mole under my earlobe (which is alright I guess, since it never grew back) and my upper lip is bleeding, along with half a dozen other weepers. I paid the man and left and had to wait about a week before I could shave again. Then I had to wait yet another week because my face was still in pretty bad shape after that follow-up shave. In fact, I think I still have scars.

Never, ever ever again.

Click to expand...

ClubmanRob said:

Once is all it took to bar me from letting anyone shave me.

I went to a barbershop for a standard haircut. He pointed out my three-month old beard. "I'm not using to seeing you with a beard during the summer. You want me to line it up for you?"

"Nah, I'm just going to go home and shave it off." Then he offered a straight razor shave. Sure, I thought. You only live once right?

He misted a couple of towels with a sprayer bottle and then put them in the micorowave (!) for about a minute. He wrapped them around my face and I almost screamed. Man, I like it hot, but I don't want to feel like you poured gas on my face and lit a match. After my skin finished melting I tried to relax.

The barber pulls out a straight razor from a murky jar of Marvicide and rinses it off under the sink. He started stropping the razor and I asked him what type of soap he used. "None, I have a hot lather machine." OK, cool. I turn to look at it and it's one of those 20 dollar Conair hot lather tubes that you can get at Wal-Mart. (Or used to be able to get, I don't know if they still manufacture it or not.)

He takes the towels off my face and starts lathering me up. I smell the familiar scent of Barbasol Aloe which causes my face to break out like crazy. "Hey, you got any other cream? This kind gives me a rash." He claims it isn't Barbasol Aloe but Gillette Foamy. Whatever.

He starts slapping the lather on my face like I owed him money. He puts one of the hot wet towels on my chest, which causes a big wet puddle to form on my shirt. He starts shaving near my sideburns but he's not stretching my skin at all. I hear him scraping away at my cheeks and jaw.

Then he gets to my neck. "Hey, please don't shave my neck north to south. My hair grows really strange there. Start at my adam's apple and head north." He tells me how he's mapped my beard and knows how to shave me without causing any irritation. Why shouldn't I trust him? I mean, he's a professional and all and I'm just a dumb 20 year old who shaves himself everyday with a straight razor and knows what his skin can take or can't take, right?

The whole time the blade is just tugging and skipping over my face. I asked him if he needed to strop the razor again. Nope. Tug, tug, skip, cut, nick, scrape, skip, tug. My God, this is downright painful. By the time he's done, he's basically done a one pass blade buff all over my face in a zillion different directions.

He towels my face off and I know I'm in for trouble because the white towel had a few dark red spots on it. He slaps some Lustray Bay Rum on me and raises the chair. He removes the bib-thing off my torso and instead of offering me a mirror, he starts rubbing my shoulders. I'm freaking out now. I was the only person in there. Why was this old man rubbing my neck and shoulders? And then, it's all over.

He hands me a mirror and I look at his handiwork. My face is beet red, with a bunch of ingrown hairs and a thick rash all over my neck. He sliced off part of a mole under my earlobe (which is alright I guess, since it never grew back) and my upper lip is bleeding, along with half a dozen other weepers. I paid the man and left and had to wait about a week before I could shave again. Then I had to wait yet another week because my face was still in pretty bad shape after that follow-up shave. In fact, I think I still have scars.

Never, ever ever again.

Click to expand...

ClubmanRob said:

Once is all it took to bar me from letting anyone shave me.

Never, ever ever again.

Click to expand...

ClubmanRob said:

Once is all it took to bar me from letting anyone shave me.

I went to a barbershop for a standard haircut. He pointed out my three-month old beard. "I'm not using to seeing you with a beard during the summer. You want me to line it up for you?"

"Nah, I'm just going to go home and shave it off." Then he offered a straight razor shave. Sure, I thought. You only live once right?

He misted a couple of towels with a sprayer bottle and then put them in the micorowave (!) for about a minute. He wrapped them around my face and I almost screamed. Man, I like it hot, but I don't want to feel like you poured gas on my face and lit a match. After my skin finished melting I tried to relax.

The barber pulls out a straight razor from a murky jar of Marvicide and rinses it off under the sink. He started stropping the razor and I asked him what type of soap he used. "None, I have a hot lather machine." OK, cool. I turn to look at it and it's one of those 20 dollar Conair hot lather tubes that you can get at Wal-Mart. (Or used to be able to get, I don't know if they still manufacture it or not.)

He takes the towels off my face and starts lathering me up. I smell the familiar scent of Barbasol Aloe which causes my face to break out like crazy. "Hey, you got any other cream? This kind gives me a rash." He claims it isn't Barbasol Aloe but Gillette Foamy. Whatever.

He starts slapping the lather on my face like I owed him money. He puts one of the hot wet towels on my chest, which causes a big wet puddle to form on my shirt. He starts shaving near my sideburns but he's not stretching my skin at all. I hear him scraping away at my cheeks and jaw.

Then he gets to my neck. "Hey, please don't shave my neck north to south. My hair grows really strange there. Start at my adam's apple and head north." He tells me how he's mapped my beard and knows how to shave me without causing any irritation. Why shouldn't I trust him? I mean, he's a professional and all and I'm just a dumb 20 year old who shaves himself everyday with a straight razor and knows what his skin can take or can't take, right?

The whole time the blade is just tugging and skipping over my face. I asked him if he needed to strop the razor again. Nope. Tug, tug, skip, cut, nick, scrape, skip, tug. My God, this is downright painful. By the time he's done, he's basically done a one pass blade buff all over my face in a zillion different directions.

He towels my face off and I know I'm in for trouble because the white towel had a few dark red spots on it. He slaps some Lustray Bay Rum on me and raises the chair. He removes the bib-thing off my torso and instead of offering me a mirror, he starts rubbing my shoulders. I'm freaking out now. I was the only person in there. Why was this old man rubbing my neck and shoulders? And then, it's all over.

He hands me a mirror and I look at his handiwork. My face is beet red, with a bunch of ingrown hairs and a thick rash all over my neck. He sliced off part of a mole under my earlobe (which is alright I guess, since it never grew back) and my upper lip is bleeding, along with half a dozen other weepers. I paid the man and left and had to wait about a week before I could shave again. Then I had to wait yet another week because my face was still in pretty bad shape after that follow-up shave. In fact, I think I still have scars.

Never, ever ever again.

Click to expand...