I didn’t even have a razor of my own, I’d have had to steal my mom’s.
Do you walk up to 11 year olds and laugh at their incompetence on a regular basis?
Not to mention that I think every newbie shaver manages to get one hell of a nasty cut at least once while figuring out how much pressure to use and what angles work where.
Inna Minnit, who pissed in your Cheerios?
The first time I shaved my legs, I was at my aunt’s house and about to go to my cousin’s wedding. I dragged the razor up my shin, sheering skin off in about 8 places. The cuts wouldn’t stop bleeding, so I had to use the only band-aids I could find - the little tiny ones. THEN I had to go to the wedding in my short semi-formal dress, with a legful of band-aids. I was mortified the entire night. 
Don’t worry. I was 15 when some boy laughed at me for exposing my hairy legs in gym class. I knew I had noticeable hair and that shaving legs was a “thing”. But I figured it was one of those grooming habits that only the meticulous care to follow. My mother, who was anal about teaching me other grooming habits, had sparse leg hair and had never taken a razor to her legs in her whole life. I didn’t hang out with girls who talked about shaving their legs either. So I didn’t know.
One of my lowest points was when I accidentally got on the wrong commuter train. I was new in town and wasn’t sure that I was on the wrong train until we’d already gone a couple of stops. Instead of confessing my mistake to the conductor and maybe getting some assistance, I got off the train and found myself on the emptiest, quietest train stop in all of northern NJ. It was pitch black. I had no idea where I was in relation to anywhere I knew. I didn’t have a phone, and even if I had one, I didn’t have anyone to call. So, as tired and afraid as I was, I just headed off in a random direction. I think I walked three or four miles or so before I started seeing pockets of familiarity, and then I had another three miles of walking until I got home (not having any money on me to catch a bus).
It worked out fine in the end, but I’d never felt lonelier in my life. I was proud of myself for being such a bad-ass. I didn’t even have to ask anyone for directions. But it was the first time I learned how being so independent can be foolish. Whenever I get lost now, I remember that night and ask someone for help.
The night I was alone at home and a stranger broke in while I was asleep.
Jeez Baker. That was scary. Care to give any more details? I hope it wasn’t as horrible as it sounds like it might have been.
Seriously? What an unkind remark. Of course someone has to teach a young girl such things.
I lost my temper and kicked a blind guy in the back.
Doesn’t get much lower than that.
(He forgave me, and we remained friends…but, seriously, if he’d said so, his friends would have thrown me out a window, and I would have deserved it.)
Can I balance this by mentioning the time I saved my sister’s life when she was about to slide over the edge of a cliff? People do a lot of things in their lives, some damn bad, and some damn good.
Really? How did I figure it out on my own?
That’s the response you make? Great. Let me rephrase.
What an unkind remark. Of course SOMETIMES someone must teach a young girl such things.
(And by saying “such things”, it covers a wide variety of adult skills that need to be taught. You learned to shave on your own? Mazal tov. Maybe someone taught you something else, I bet).
She said she needed help. You mocked her. It was unkind.
Mocking someone who shares a painful memory from adolescence is far, far lower.
FWIW, I know several women whose first shaving experience resulted in cuts, painful rashes, razor burn…first-time-shaving horror stories are pretty common.
Separation/divorce, tentative cancer diagnosis. It’s been a great couple of months. 
Wife died and lost my job the same week. Had to sell the house shortly afterwards so had no permanent residence for a while. Pretty much lost everything
I would say about 1 year after my divorce when I was 41 years old. Lost my business, all my money injured my neck in a bar fight and needed surgery. I still rememeber writing my last check knowing the money was now gone. First time I ever borrowed money from my mother but I got the surgery and got my shit together pretty fast after that.
On my 27th birthday I was newly divorced, broke and in debt, stuck in my ex-wife’s home town working at a dead-end job. My birthday present to myself was a pair of sneakers from K-Mart.
Things got better.
Maybe you were busy shaving when your parents tried to teach you common courtesy.
September 9-19, 2005. Dickinson, TX.
I lost my job on Friday the 9th. My boss called me in to my workplace, half an hour away, to fire me on my day off.
My dad had a seizure and went into a coma on Saturday. I did CPR until the EMT’s arrived. He died Sunday, Sept. 11. The viewing was Tuesday, the Funeral was Thursday.
Five days later I had to evacuate from Hurricane Rita. Here is my post all about the evacuation.
We must be jinxed under the same sign. On my 27th birthday I was nine month’s pregnant, had just split from my husband and was living with my parents. No job, of course, and no money. I did have my cat, who also turned out to be pregnant. Within three weeks I had a beautiful daughter and five new kittens.
Everyone’s stories remind me how resilient humans can be. 
I turned 30 in Bangkok. I don’t think you want to know the details of that day.
EDIT: … and night.
This is very out of line for being outside of the BBQ Pit. You’ve been warned about being a jerk on here before, but I guess you didn’t get the message, so here is another warning for you.
DO NOT make posts like these in this forum. It is not okay.