So, today I hung towels out on the line for the first time since last fall. I was enjoying the breeze with my cropped pants with nary a care in the world. Suddenly, Lucy came running up to me and grabbed my legs. She then admonished me that my legs were too poky.
I realized I need to shave.
Rather than go running to shower and shave, I decided to be brave. I pulled out my..... GULP.....Silk Epil!
For those of you unfamiliar, this is a device that could easily be used for torturing information out of terrorists, but women chose to use this on their bodies to hopefully rid themselves of hair. Basically, it's a spinning wheel with tweezers of death whirring around on it, waiting to pull your hair out by it's roots.
It seems like every year I get excited to use this. I don't know why I never remember why I quit using it the year before. Here's what happens:
I hate to shave. It takes too much time to do, and it's hard to shave when you constantly have a kiddo peeking in the shower/bath wanting to join you. Sooooo, in the winter months I tend to shave roughly twice a month....unless there is an important occasion, or Hubs is going to get laid.
So, after months of hiding my blindingly white legs covered in thick coarse black hair from everyone, Spring arrives. Meaning shorts season. Meaning I start to dread finding time to shave. Not to mention the constant battle to find the perfect razor that holds it's edge long enough to shave my bristly legs, pits and bikini region.
Then I remember the Silk-Epil I have stashed in my bathroom. I pull it out and admire it's handy led light that shows every hair in such detail. The wheel with it's tweezers seems incredible and tantalizing. And the thought of only having to use it once every few weeks...and don't get me started on the finer hair it promises!
I find an area of carpet that needs vacuumed (all of those hairs gotta go somewhere!), plug the S-E in and start ripping out my leg hairs.
The first inch or two doesn't seem too bad. As I continue to slowly bring it up my leg the pain increases. And son of a bitch, you can't go fast.....it just breaks off the hairs and doesn't pull them up from the roots, meaning in a week you have awesome ingrown hairs all over your legs.
At this point, I'm trying hard not to scream profanities.
I eventually get the lower part of my leg done, and start on the knee. Holy Shit. Go grab a pair of tweezers and pull a few hairs out of your knee area. Now multiply that sensation times 1,000.
As I move on to the left leg, I realize that my right leg is not smooth. In fact it is red and bumpy and angry looking. It's as if my skin is screaming at me: YOU FUCKING BITCH! WHY DID YOU DO THIS?
I then work my way over my left leg, stopping occasionally to blow the stray hairs off of my leg. When I finish and survey my work, I realize that there are still random little hairs that are mocking me and the S-E.
So, I slather lotion on my slightly less hairy legs in hopes of taming the red sores that are looking like chicken pox at this point and wait a few hours. But in the meantime, those hairs are poking and prodding and laughing at me.
By the time I start getting ready for bed, I cave and go shave my legs and put the Silk Epil away until next spring when I'll start the whole cycle over again.
Being a woman really sucks sometimes.