Does size matter?

The trials and tribulations of living in a confined space for any period of time takes some ingenuity and sometimes the ability to be able to bend like a twisty straw. When one is in there 50’s and not as agile as one once was, bending into various positions sometimes presents a problem. This is never more evident when attempting to shave your legs in the Glamping shower. Showering in the glamper van highlights the long debated question “does size matter?

Having ventured into our swimwear as the weather had become somewhat warmer Mrs Clarkie (half of The Wandering West Australians) and I lay like goddesses on the Sunshine Coast sand. This is an important part of the story as it leads to the shocking moment where she realises that she had been to the beach with only partially shaven legs. At this point as she passed on her story I thought as most people would; that there really was no big deal that she had forgotten to shave half of her legs, if the bottom were done at least then we were all good, but no, not only had she not shaved half of her legs she had only shaved the front half of each leg, diligently top to bottom. With the sun shining through the car window she suddenly noted the back half of each leg looked similar to an uncut bushland park. When asked why, she stated there was only enough room in the glamper shower to shave the front and since she had been travelling for awhile, it was cold, there had been no need to parade her legs for public display.

Mrs Clarkie decides to use the public showers to complete the task of thorough hair removal. She loads up with all the necessary equipment and heads off. Amongst her possessions she carried a bottle of Eucalyptus oil because another Wandering West Australian (Connie, Queen of the Oyster shots), had told her to spread a few drops of the disinfectant oil over the shower floor to kill any nasties prior to entering. What she didn’t tell Mrs Clarkie was that stepping onto the surface whilst wearing thongs tends to turn the shower into an ice skating rink, after doing a triple axel worthy of an Olympic skater she manages to steady herself and commence her ablutions.

The problem as we get older is that we tend to go blind over time, hence the need for Mrs Clarkie’s decision to wear her glasses in the shower to ensure that the back half of her legs match the front. Steam and glasses don’t mix.. the large gash at ankle height from the blunt razor she had unwittingly used saw her return from the shower sporting a Norman Gunston like toilet paper piece stuck to her leg to stop the wound from gushing any further.

Now hairless, bleeding, bruised and blind she tells me the whole process was completed in 20 mins…in Clarkie time this is considered quick. In 20 mins I could’ve showered, dressed and had the car serviced, but we are on Clarkie time. Showering in a public place is not my idea of fun, it’s obviously dangerous and the shower heads have a mind of there own, there’s germs lurking around every tinea filled corner. Luckily because size does matter when attending to the complexities of leg shaving in the glamper shower we had an outdoor shower installed, this should give our fellow caravaners a thrill and negate me having to bend like a straw or learn the triple axel.