Sharp as a razor
I’m something of a razor whore. I’ll admit it. It started with the first razor my dad bought for me and went downhill from there. The Excel, Stealth, Stealth 2: son of Stealth - I’ve got ‘em. It all stems from the fact that my face actively dissuades shaving. I’ve got really coarse hair which renders even the best electric shavers to nothing more than expensive face massagers. Combine this with quite sensitive skin and you’ve got a recipe for disaster. Now, don’t get me wrong, my face really isn’t quite that bad. I know people whose face immediately resembles an angry puffer fish the moment you even pop the top on the shaving cream. Angry face. I’m not there, but I’m a few steps back the cranky-face spectrum.
The reason I’m writing this is because I have been trying the latest Gillette shaver, the Fusion with its Five Blades Of Fury. I should back up a second. Since its release, I’ve been more than content with Gillette’s Mach 3. Don’t ask me what it is, but the three blades on that beast was like shaving nirvana. It just worked. For me it represented a quantum leap in shaving.
I didn’t go in for their Mach 3 Turbo or Mach 3 Look We Put A Battery In It because I had found contentment with the original Mach 3. Thank you very much.
Then they released the Fusion. It had five blades. If three blades were nirvana, then FIVE blades must be some kind of nirvana Valhalla smoothie with an afterlife booster, right? It even has a little blade specifically for getting that annoying spot right under your nose.
I went to Costco and purchased the Fusion. As I completed my transaction a chorus of angels sounded from somewhere. The next morning I lathered my face up and dove in with the Fusion.
It hurt.
It did. I was so disappointed! But not one to rush to judgment, I have been using it exclusively for a couple months now. I still don’t like it. Where three blades struck the right balance between getting everything in one fell swoop, five blades felt like gross overkill. Even one pass left my face begging for relief.
I’ve still got some blades to finish with the Fusion, and I’m not about to toss them aside unused, cranky face be damned. But I am going to go back to the Mach 3. Sometimes more is simply not better.
So I don’t fall victim to Razor Lust again, I developed a clever rhyme to remind me of my shaving loyalties:
Blades of three, just right for me.
Blades of five, skinned alive.
Pretty straight forward there. Though, upon reflection, I’m reminded that Schick came out with some four-bladed thing... the Schick Phallus or something. Let me revise my rhyme then:
Blades of three, just right for me.
Blades of five, skinned alive.
Blades of four, are you an idiot? I just got done telling you to stick with three blades. You must be retarded, you moron.
The reason I’m writing this is because I have been trying the latest Gillette shaver, the Fusion with its Five Blades Of Fury. I should back up a second. Since its release, I’ve been more than content with Gillette’s Mach 3. Don’t ask me what it is, but the three blades on that beast was like shaving nirvana. It just worked. For me it represented a quantum leap in shaving.
I didn’t go in for their Mach 3 Turbo or Mach 3 Look We Put A Battery In It because I had found contentment with the original Mach 3. Thank you very much.
Then they released the Fusion. It had five blades. If three blades were nirvana, then FIVE blades must be some kind of nirvana Valhalla smoothie with an afterlife booster, right? It even has a little blade specifically for getting that annoying spot right under your nose.
I went to Costco and purchased the Fusion. As I completed my transaction a chorus of angels sounded from somewhere. The next morning I lathered my face up and dove in with the Fusion.
It hurt.
It did. I was so disappointed! But not one to rush to judgment, I have been using it exclusively for a couple months now. I still don’t like it. Where three blades struck the right balance between getting everything in one fell swoop, five blades felt like gross overkill. Even one pass left my face begging for relief.
I’ve still got some blades to finish with the Fusion, and I’m not about to toss them aside unused, cranky face be damned. But I am going to go back to the Mach 3. Sometimes more is simply not better.
So I don’t fall victim to Razor Lust again, I developed a clever rhyme to remind me of my shaving loyalties:
Blades of three, just right for me.
Blades of five, skinned alive.
Pretty straight forward there. Though, upon reflection, I’m reminded that Schick came out with some four-bladed thing... the Schick Phallus or something. Let me revise my rhyme then:
Blades of three, just right for me.
Blades of five, skinned alive.
Blades of four, are you an idiot? I just got done telling you to stick with three blades. You must be retarded, you moron.