Now, I've gotten skin tags on the front of my neck before and swiftly, with the aid of nail clippers, snipped them off. Even enlisted son Sam to cut them off, a task he was very reluctant to perform until he got tired of my begging and pleading and caved. However, having a girlfriend Sam is never around so I decided to take matters into my own hands.
The idea popped into my head while I was in the shower, washing my hair and feeling the fleshy nubs of neck hell as I rinsed my hair. Why don't I just shave them off? That's the ticket and a task that can be performed singularily!
Grabbed my razor, rubbed a little Brylcream on the offenders, and began shaving the back of my neck. Hmmmm, perhaps I should have switched out the old razor with a new one. Do I even have any more new ones? Alas, the job had begun so continued appendectomy of the tags with a vengeance.
Shaving just didn't seem to be accomplishing the job as I imagined it. Would pull the razor away to see chunks of hair clotting the blade. And no these were not errant neck hairs but chunks of head hair that were entangled in the path of the skin tags. Yikes!
Hoping I had removed at least some of the skin creatures, I rinsed and got out of the shower. Towel turbaned my hair, I then rubbed the back of my neck hoping to feel the smooth skin of a newborn.
Well no. After all that torture those tags remained on my neck, bold as the mole hair that sprung from third grade teacher Mrs. Morrow's wrinkly face!
It's now been two days since The Epic Shave of 2018. The back of my neck has irritated me like a son of a bitch! Skin tags still there but now included on my neck is rash burn, nicks, and inflamed flesh. Perhaps even missing patches of hair although I've been too reluctant to scope out the remains of my neck with a mirror.
Lesson learned - it's better to have a family member excise skin tags than attempt to remove them yourself using a dull razor.
Excuse me as its time to rub my neck.
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