Jaws of life

My sister introduced me to the perfect razor just for women — the Venus.  I’ve always struggled with those cheapish disposable razors.  Then I remembered Couponman had brought me a razor as some swag from a convention he’d attended. 

Razor casingThrough the clear heavy-duty plastic wrapper, I saw what I thought was three separate razors.  I could discern no possible means of removal, packaged like it was headed for Fort Knox.  I handed it back to him.  “Can you open this for me?” I asked.

He pulled at the top of the package.  Nothing.  I could hear him struggling in the other room with it.  “I need the Jaws of Life,” he said.  He eventually ripped it open and carried in three separate handles.  “You have to be an engineer to hook it together.”

“What do you mean,” I asked.  “Where’s the razor?”

“There’s only one,” he said.  “It’s extendable.  You hook the handles together.”

“What would I need to do that for?  I’m not going to shave my back.”

We laughed.

Disabilities razor“Where’d you get this?” I asked.

“The Disabilities Expo,” he said.

We even laughed harder.

I’m thinking if you can’t bend over to see the hair on your legs, you probably don’t need to shave.  What you don’t see can’t hurt you.

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2 Comments on Jaws of life

  1. Pat S. says:

    If you can’t see what you’re shaving ~ you can’t see what you care cutting either.
    ouch!!

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