And then she shaved my legs
It is a strange feeling. This weakness. I had a liver biopsy a couple of days ago and now I can't bend over without pretty severe pain.
I was also a real baby about the not showering for 24 hours thing. I am one of those people who would have made a poor pioneer. Well, I would never have survived in the first place. Being diabetic would have done me in before I could have helped plant my first field. But, for me....it would be the clean thing. I would often read The Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder when I was a kid and I always wondered about baths and hair washes. The Ingalls' family never seemed to bathe that much except when they were getting ready to go into town. Pa worked the fields, often with his daughter, Laura, right beside him. Ma worked in her garden and kept the house clean and did all the cooking. They had no air conditioning. I imagine those Summers were pretty hot.
I imagine that the whole family got pretty stinky. And they all pretty much slept in the same room.
I could never be a good pioneer. If I don't take a daily shower, I get really, really crabby.
And after my liver biopsy, I was told to refrain from showering for 24 hours. That upset me even more than the unrelenting pain in my side. Plus, I was slathered with that orange antibiotic soap that they put on you from my neck to my waist.
T gently washed the orange off of me, while I lay on the bed shivering with revulsion. I truly HATE being dirty. Being stained was twice as bad.
I knew that I would have to take a quick basin bath and be happy with that for the night.
T was less than understanding. Probably because she sometimes misses a shower and thinks nothing of it. Or she showers at her gym and never even worries about foot fungus the way that I obsess about.
"What's the big deal?" she asked, genuinely perplexed. "It isn't as if you get dirty. You don't have any hair. You never stink. In the whole time I have known you, I have never even smelled a whiff of B.O. on you."
Well, that was good to hear. But, it didn't help. I just psychologically needed that shower. I am often weak, especially at night when I shower. But, taking a nightly shower feels as if I am metaphorically washing off the day. I know it sounds odd.
T could see that it was bothering me. So, she suggested that she give me a foot bath.
"That way, at least your feet will feel clean. That might help," she said.
I thought about this and agreed. So, she filled up a dishpan with hot bubbly water and I soaked my feet. I felt better. And then I looked up and she was holding a razor and some shaving cream.
"Okay," she said. "I know that it has been bothering you that you haven't been able to shave your legs. And I know that it hurts you to bend over, so you won't be able to do it for a while. How about you let me do it for you?"
Well, now.
She was right. I have always shaved my legs in the shower every Friday night religiously. I have done this since high school. But, the last time that I tried to shave my legs (in April!), I had tried to straighten up after leaning over to shave and found that my back would not cooperate. I spent three days walking around with a hunched back before I was finally able to straighten up. So, I hadn't shaved since. And now, that I could not bend over without severe pain? Well, it could be longer. Plus, my legs were just weirdly hairy. Not overly so...but weirdly. They were bald in some places and hairy in others, so I had sort of an alien look and feel.
I consented. I have never had anyone else shave my legs and I must say that it was sort of......nice. We both worried that I would start bleeding, but T was gentle and got the job done handily. She made it easier for me by sweetly kissing my legs from time to time, praising their softness.
"You have always had the softest skin I have ever known. The first time I kissed you, I nearly swooned. Your lips were so tender! So incredibly puffy and soft. And when I touched your bare shoulders and arms, it was like you were a porcelain doll, all smooth and cool. Your legs are so, so soft."
Now. I ask you. How could I not feel okay about getting my weirdo legs shaved when she was saying things like that?
So, my legs were shaved. My feet were clean. When I went to bed that night, smelling faintly of T's fragrant shaving cream, I felt pretty clean.
And the next night in the shower, I carefully bent down to wash my legs and there they were....soft and supple. Hairless legs.
So, maybe this will be her permanent job......
I was also a real baby about the not showering for 24 hours thing. I am one of those people who would have made a poor pioneer. Well, I would never have survived in the first place. Being diabetic would have done me in before I could have helped plant my first field. But, for me....it would be the clean thing. I would often read The Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder when I was a kid and I always wondered about baths and hair washes. The Ingalls' family never seemed to bathe that much except when they were getting ready to go into town. Pa worked the fields, often with his daughter, Laura, right beside him. Ma worked in her garden and kept the house clean and did all the cooking. They had no air conditioning. I imagine those Summers were pretty hot.
I imagine that the whole family got pretty stinky. And they all pretty much slept in the same room.
I could never be a good pioneer. If I don't take a daily shower, I get really, really crabby.
And after my liver biopsy, I was told to refrain from showering for 24 hours. That upset me even more than the unrelenting pain in my side. Plus, I was slathered with that orange antibiotic soap that they put on you from my neck to my waist.
T gently washed the orange off of me, while I lay on the bed shivering with revulsion. I truly HATE being dirty. Being stained was twice as bad.
I knew that I would have to take a quick basin bath and be happy with that for the night.
T was less than understanding. Probably because she sometimes misses a shower and thinks nothing of it. Or she showers at her gym and never even worries about foot fungus the way that I obsess about.
"What's the big deal?" she asked, genuinely perplexed. "It isn't as if you get dirty. You don't have any hair. You never stink. In the whole time I have known you, I have never even smelled a whiff of B.O. on you."
Well, that was good to hear. But, it didn't help. I just psychologically needed that shower. I am often weak, especially at night when I shower. But, taking a nightly shower feels as if I am metaphorically washing off the day. I know it sounds odd.
T could see that it was bothering me. So, she suggested that she give me a foot bath.
"That way, at least your feet will feel clean. That might help," she said.
I thought about this and agreed. So, she filled up a dishpan with hot bubbly water and I soaked my feet. I felt better. And then I looked up and she was holding a razor and some shaving cream.
"Okay," she said. "I know that it has been bothering you that you haven't been able to shave your legs. And I know that it hurts you to bend over, so you won't be able to do it for a while. How about you let me do it for you?"
Well, now.
She was right. I have always shaved my legs in the shower every Friday night religiously. I have done this since high school. But, the last time that I tried to shave my legs (in April!), I had tried to straighten up after leaning over to shave and found that my back would not cooperate. I spent three days walking around with a hunched back before I was finally able to straighten up. So, I hadn't shaved since. And now, that I could not bend over without severe pain? Well, it could be longer. Plus, my legs were just weirdly hairy. Not overly so...but weirdly. They were bald in some places and hairy in others, so I had sort of an alien look and feel.
I consented. I have never had anyone else shave my legs and I must say that it was sort of......nice. We both worried that I would start bleeding, but T was gentle and got the job done handily. She made it easier for me by sweetly kissing my legs from time to time, praising their softness.
"You have always had the softest skin I have ever known. The first time I kissed you, I nearly swooned. Your lips were so tender! So incredibly puffy and soft. And when I touched your bare shoulders and arms, it was like you were a porcelain doll, all smooth and cool. Your legs are so, so soft."
Now. I ask you. How could I not feel okay about getting my weirdo legs shaved when she was saying things like that?
So, my legs were shaved. My feet were clean. When I went to bed that night, smelling faintly of T's fragrant shaving cream, I felt pretty clean.
And the next night in the shower, I carefully bent down to wash my legs and there they were....soft and supple. Hairless legs.
So, maybe this will be her permanent job......
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