Bathing With Barbie

Bathing with Barbie

Shaving in the shower is just not an option for me. I wear glasses. Without them, I cannot see my own knees. If I try to shave in the shower, my glasses get foggy and I mistake droplets of water on my glasses for bumps that don't exist on my legs. So, I have to use the touch method. I drag the razor up my shin several times, and then I reach down and rub my finger tips on my skin to find poking patches of stubble. Then, I drag the razor over the area again; rub it with my fingers until my skin is so silky that I am reminded of the softest sheets at my Aunt Diane's house. This procedure, while quite effective, is time consuming. Shaving one leg takes the same amount of time as it takes to bake a fourteen pound turkey.

Recently I had a brilliant notion: "Why not shave in the tub?" I used to do that--- before I had kids.

As I stepped into the bathtub tonight, brushing seven Barbies aside, whose hair was plastered to the bottom of the tub in very unusual arrangements, I realized why I don't get in the tub: I don't like bathing with Barbie.

Ken? Well, I could put up with him. He's got great abs. But I just can't share a tub with Barbie. It goes against my faith or something along those lines. First of all, she's just too damn skinny. Secondly, wet or dry, her make-up never runs. And the final blow is that she's always looking straight at me. It's unnerving to bathe with Barbie glaring at my stubbly shins.

So tonight I dragged the seven Barbies, face-down, out of the tub and put them on the towel rack, as close as possible to the floor, and I reclaimed this wonderful area. I became a Porcelain Princess. Glasses in place, I covered myself in shaving cream and enjoyed watching my stubble float to the surface and stick to the sides of the tub.

When I climbed out, warm, relaxed and smooth as a slug, I was jolted back into reality when I saw "The Ring."

"Where's the blow torch? I know I left it somewhere?" After a futile search, I returned to the bathroom empty-handed and caught a glimpse of the Barbie Brigade lying prone on the wire-rack.

"I bet that Barbie hair is created by the same folks who make titanium. I can grab that skinny little waist, dip the hair in a comet paste and......"

Six minutes later: "Boy is my tub clean now.”