Body Shaving

Body Shaving And Body Surfing

Body shaving, body surfing. Body surfing, body shaving.

Those two phrases stick together in my mind. They are linked for ever and I cannot think of one without the other.

During the summer vacations while in college I used to hitch hike, drive, go by bus or by any reasonable means, to a small fishing village on the Pacific coast of southern Mexico.

The body surfing was fantastic and this is where I had my first body shaving encounter.

And it was a very close encounter of the fun kind.

The beauty of this village was that very few tourists had discovered it even though the main coastal road passed next to the village. It has a small picturesque harbor and a short walk took you to the open shore. The beach here went on for miles and miles.

There were beautiful sand dunes and you would come across another person only occasionally. Never a villager, always an adventurous soul; a modern age explorer.

I would spend most of the day playing amongst the waves, practicing my body surfing. The waves came in series of seven, and then three really large ones. These were my tempters.

I would flash by at an angle and am sure managed at at least a hundred yards each time. It was exhilarating.

My second visit changed my perception on body hair. A small group of us (four actually) made friends and started body surfing together. We would hang out round a camp fire at night, pass the time together singing, telling stories and basically enjoy ourselves.

One night we camped out on the beach and in the early hours of the morning we heard a thundering sound nearby that was coming closer and closer. It a moonlit night, the background music from the waves keeping us company.

We suddenly became aware of a group of riders on the top of a sand dune and silhouetted against the moon light. They rode slowly towards us as we hunched together. They were kids, not quite teenagers, but about twelve of them. We unconsciously relaxed as we saw their age, but this seemed to anger them.

They started flashing knives and machetes. They never came down from their horses but instead pranced round threatening to knock us over and waving their weapons in the air, shouting continuously. Just then a smaller rider who had stood back at the top of a sand dune whistled piercingly.

They immediately turned, swearing at us but still brandishing their knives, and galloped off. A few moments later a patrol of soldiers came trotting by, spoke to us and went after these kids. Apparently a small band of children that had been roaming the beaches to rob tourists at night.

The officer in charge of the patrol stayed behind, forcing himself on our group. He was armed with a pistol at his side. He was making conversation as he helped himself to a bottle of rum. Then downed the first two drinks straight, and from a plastic cup. After that he began to drink at an alarming rate right out of the bottle.

He was getting louder and louder, bragging in his broken English on what he planned to do to these kids who had the nerve to invade his property. He started fingering the gun at his side. The more he spoke, the louder he got, the quieter we became. He downed the bottle as if it were water; lifting it up and gulping away with a trickle sliding down the side of his mouth. His eyes became glazed as he started to sing at the top of his voice.

The songs changed into sad, moaning songs of unrequited or traitorous love. He began to cry as he started on another bottle. Then he slumped over and started to snore. We quickly but silently picked up our gear and left.

I escorted the three girls to their cabin and allowed myself to be persuaded to spend the night there, to guard them of course. These cabins were very basic and rustic. They are promoted today as ecological cabins but in those days they were just publicized as cheap.

One of the girls, Cynthia, started explaining that they practiced full body shaving, which I had noticed, and as such had become experts in this.

Would I mind? Well, since she asked so nicely ... and I am sure it would relax me after such a hectic night.

So they did. They each had an electric shaver and their corresponding trimmers. As I lay down on the bed, the three of them began in a coordinated manner to shave my body.

Anyway to make a long story short, for the next three years we met up in Oaxaca City and then drove together to the fishing village.

We never saw the kid riders or the officer again. We always body surfed and body shaved.

Check out a fantastic body shaver that can be safely used on any part of the body without nicks, cuts, rashes or burns.