One Lump or Two?

I must've been thirteen, fourteen
when the novelty first struck.
Shaving was new to me, and so was
that Gillette I still use to this day.
Dull blades and hackjobs
led to stinging nicks
that wouldn't stop bleeding
without bits of tissue.
Physical pain was worse
in those days, the other kind
only a seedling.

There must've been some secret, I thought
other than going down first
which has also paid off in spades.
Like much of the world
it didn't make sense.
For some reason then
it seemed wise to inquire.

"Dad, when do you throw
it out?" I asked, suddenly aware
that those mysterious black circles
on the vanity which had baffled me
since early childhood
were the result of his not wiping
the stubbly puddles when he was done.
"To be honest, when it starts to get rough."

My phone still hasn't rang.
Maybe that's what happened.