I'm bald by choice, which is to say that I shave my head in anticipation of the inevitable: I have a receding hairline AND a bald spot, and I have proclaimed from the day my scalp started to tan that when the cul-de-sac met the solar panel, I would not have a "ring of hair" around my head. It looked good on that guy that followed Lando Calrissian everywhere in "The Empire Strikes Back," but it's not for me. When the remaining space began to thin, I grabbed a razor and went to it.
And I spent several months cutting the hell out of my scalp.
So my girlfriend asks if she can shave my head. I figure, what the hell? Her only experience is shaving her legs--halfway through she compares my head to a knee--but by letting her do it, I figured out what I had been doing wrong: I was pressing too hard, sweeping too short, and a couple of other things. I've learned that, once again, a fresh perspective can help you solve problems. So now, I can shave my head cleanly and smoothly . . .
. . . without, y'know, all the blood.