Kathleen McCall:
Occasional�� Muse�

2001-12-06 - 12:48 p.m.

The Razor's Edge

Older child announces this morning that her leg is bleeding. It is. Copiously.

From a razor burn.

Months ago I left a disposable razor in the girls' bathroom. She discovered it. I knew she had because I stroked her leg when we were watching television one night; it took a minute for my mind to register what I was feeling. Stubble! My kid had stubble!

So I asked her if she'd been using the razor, and she said yes, she had.

She's eleven.

Well, fine. At eleven, shaving is not a political decision, it's a social decision. She can shave if she wants to. She knows there are other choices, but she also knows that the other girls at school shave and those are the people she has to undress for gym with. So, fine. Whatever.

(You WHAT? You did WHAT? Oh, no. No way, missy. Not happening. You're only ELEVEN, for God's sake what WERE you thinking? You're absolutely perfect the way you are, don't you dare let me catch you near my razor again. You can shave when you're...when you're...sixteen or something.)

I DID warn her about razors, told her what razor burn was, told her to be very careful and not to be thinking that thing was innocuous; it's a very sharp blade. Razor-sharp, as a matter of fact. But we all know that razor burn on your ankle is something you just have to do yourself and find out about. It's not an academic subject, it's a lab. She got hers this morning in the bath, and it was serious stuff. A two-inch bald patch right above the ankle bone, bleeding and stinging like crazy. Poor kid.

(SEE?? I TOLD you! I TOLD you you were too young to be shaving! A razor is a dangerous implement! It's for grown-ups, and maybe not even then! I don't care that they make them all pink and feminine, they're weapons! The only way I want to see skin come off your ankles is on your Razor SCOOTER!)

I got her some Neosporin. Thought a little goo might slow down the bleeding, and of course the antibiotic won't hurt any either, unless you want to get into a philosophical discussion of the overuse of antibiotics and how that contributes to developing resistant strains of bacteria, which I would be pleased to discuss but not while my kid is bleeding and due at school in five minutes.

She's going to a dance on Friday. A dance; at eleven she's going to school dances. At the last one, she discovered that eleven-year old boys do not ask you to dance, but I think she's reconciled to that and plans to have a good time anyway. Maybe she and the other girls will dance together, or compare shaving scars, or something. Just before the dance she's going to a friend's birthday party, where they've been offered hair-dos and manicures and make- up for the dance. I told her no make-up.

(Make-up! Make-up and it's not even Halloween! No way, missy. Not happening. You have a perfect face and perfect skin and you're eleven years old and you're not going to mess that up by troweling on goo and walking around looking like a French whore. French whore? Oh my God, I'm channeling my mother.)

Her father and I are going to have issues over this stuff. He will be furious that I let her use that razor and that she shaved herself some skin. I know him and I know he can make leaving a razor in the bathroom sound about as responsible as storing Liquid Rat Poison in a Sunny Delight bottle. On the other hand, he would allow the make-up, possibly even encourage it, as he considers make-up "feminine" and was always disappointed that I didn't wear it every day. "If you loved me, you'd paint that ugly face."

(Right. Get your kid started early thinking that she's not ready to meet the world until she's covered all those flaws and made her lashes long, longer, longest. Teach her your version of femininity - nylon stockings, high heels, and mascara. Make-up is central to one's self-image, you know. )

As you can see, I am doing a fair amount of tongue-biting these days. I want my kid to stay a kid, which like all kids she obstinately refuses to do, and I want to defend her from her father's agenda for womanhood so I can get a head start on her with MY agenda for womanhood. Also, my mother keeps surfacing in my head at the oddest times and providing phrases I can't stand to hear me say, and my daughter's development is probably going to bring me square into conflict with her misogynist father, again. It's a good thing I'm crazy about that kid. Or as my mother would say, it's a good thing she's too big to put back.

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