Shaving for the ladies

simple depends on your experiance

I always looked forward to Fridays, not because it was the end of the week but because it was the day I visited the Phagun house. Without a doubt, it was the house that Mrs. Phagun had built, but I felt I decorated a room or two and had some part in stopping its destruction. I was not so much that I felt any ownership of the house. It was more like the house owned me.

On any Friday, for at least a half day, I came and did whatever needed doing. I rarely knew what would be waiting for me – except, of course, for our tea at four. I have changed light bulbs, checked out a leaking faucet, talked with an upset and sad elderly woman, fixed broken beds, went on Dr.’s appointments, you name it. Whatever was needed, it was expected that I would handle it and that expectation always felt like a compliment.

My program had been under pressure from the state to have someone staying overnight who was younger than 72, the youngest in the house. This demand had sent Mrs. Phagun over the edge, and the threats to chuck the whole thing started again. The deadline for such a position was imminent. In a matter of days, the house would be closed.

At the last moment, Mrs. Phagun’s Granddaughter, newly graduated from college, agreed to be the live-in support staff for the foreseeable future.
But there was a gap of a day before she could start. So I filled the gap by staying overnight to provide support coverage. Mrs. Phagun allowed this because she said she was “not feeling up to par”. She wouldn’t let a stranger take care of her house or the ladies. But .she accepted me.

As we took tea in the afternoon of my day to stay overnight, Mrs. Phagun - looking alarmingly pale - told me tales of the ladies and how they knew so little of life.

I found myself worried about her after all, she was over 80 and was at the center of everything that happened there.

When I asked what was wrong, she gave me a wave of firm but gentle dismissal. I knew well enough that if she felt OK, she would not be allowing even me to stay overnight.. Her pride would not allow it, so she had talked herself into feeling bad to make the situation palatable.
But once that decision was made, it was made, so we talked about what she wanted me to do during my stay. In what seemed to come out of nowhere, she asked me to let the ladies watch me shave.

"Why would they want to watch me shave?” I asked.

Well, at first I was surprised too, but they told me that they had never seen anything like that, and as long as you were here, why not? You know they like you and trust you - I don’t see any harm in it. Do you?” She asked.

As usual, Mrs. Phagun asked me to do something, granted permission, and made it impossible for me to say no all at the same time. I was getting the bends being wrapped around her little finger and loved it.

I did very little that evening - there was no need, as the house ran like a fine old watch. Maggie and the ladies cared for me like I was visiting royalty. It was very disconcerting.

In the morning before breakfast, I made my way to the bathroom off the kitchen in this old farmhouse. The ladies were standing by the door waiting expectantly. I entered the bathroom and invited the ladies to join me - it was a big bathroom – and suggested they form a semi-circle around the sink.
They filed in solemnly and arranged themselves as I had recommended. As I laid out my shaving equipment on the countertop, there was some whispering among the ladies.

“If you want to talk or ask questions, I don’t mind,” I told them

Mae, who seemed the designated spokesman, replied, “Oh, good, I think we will have some questions. We just don’t want you to cut yourself.”

“Well, thanks. I appreciate that.”

Mae started giving color commentary in a stage whisper in the manner of a reporter at a golf tournament

“Now, see how he washes his face with soap and hot water to start?” asked May

Why would he do that?” asked Beth, “when he is going to put on shaving cream?”

“I don’t know why.”

“Why do you do that?” May asked me.

“I wash my face first to clean the skin and soften the beard,” I explained.

“Now that his face is clean, see how he applies the shaving cream? I can see that he is making sure that all of his face that he is going to shave is covered.” May continued.

“Why do you go up and down on your face with the razor and not just one way?” asked Maggie.

"Well, my beard grows differently on different parts of my face, and if I want a good shave,e I have to change directions with the razor,” I replied.

Everyone had questions, and all of them were thoughtful. I found that I had to think a bit to answer some. Like most men, shaving was a daily activity that was pretty much automatic. The problems usually happened when it was not automatic. That was the case now.

While I was talking, I cut myself. The ladies became very upset. For a moment, I thought they were going to call an ambulance.

“Don’t worry Ladies, it is just a little cut that happens sometimes. It doesn’t even hurt.” I said as I put a small piece of toilet paper on the cut.

“Why did you put the toilet paper on the cut?” asked Jan.

“It helps the cut to stop bleeding, and then in a bit, I take it off, and everything is OK.”

I finished shaving - it seemed to take a long time and announced, “The shaving is done, what do you think?”

For the first and last time ever, I got applause in the bathroom.

“Good job, I haven’t seen that since my husband died these many years ago. It took me back,” said Mrs. Phagun from the doorway.

The ladies filed out the door into the kitchen, talking excitedly as though they had just witnessed a special event.

I was used to them talking about me in the third person. I came to know that these ladies had never really been listened to, so they just said what they wanted whenever they wanted - they never expected anyone would pay attention. It was great for me,

I’d be standing there, and one of the ladies would say, “Well, He looks good today, doesn’t he?”

“Yes”, another would say. “But a bit tired, I think.”

“Do you think he’ll tell a joke or fool with us

“I hope so - I like it when he fools with us.”

Then they would just stand there, waiting. Of course, I had to make a joke or tease them. But it didn’t matter what I did because I could do no wrong.
I have rarely felt that special in my entire life, and I knew that what I did mattered.