I’ve written about my favorite razors before and about how they are getting harder and harder to find.
Well, now it has reached critical mass. I ordered them through Amazon Prime weeks ago and they still haven’t arrived. My husband found a dealer on eBay, but how long will that last until they run out, too? It’s inevitable. I am going to have to find some other means of hair removal. I have tried other razors: cheap ones, expensive ones, ergonomically correct ones. Only my razors seem to do the best job, with little collateral damage. I never thought of my skin as sensitive, but apparently it is. Any other razors leave me in a state of blotchy irritation that is not only unsightly, but painful!
I took to Google. What are my options? Another kind of razor. Waxing. Laser. Epilator. Depilatories. Or just let that shit grow. In my struggle, I had chosen the latter, at least until my favorite razors arrive from eBay.
But I couldn’t wait any longer. The hair length is reaching critical mass and today is my birthday so I decided to treat myself to a handheld torture device called an epilator. I also bought some topical Lidocaine to minimize the pain.
What is an epilator, you ask? It looks like an electric razor except it has these tiny tweezers and metal bits that latch on to the little hairs and pull them out by the roots. It all rotates with gnashing teeth and groaning gears against the skin grabbing and pulling at everything in site.
I prepared myself, taking a deep cleansing breath before starting. There are no words for the amount of pain that this little handheld device causes, but once you get started, you might as well suck it up and finish. I winced and grimaced, then held my breath, except when little gasps of pain escaped from between my gritted teeth. I finished both legs and am currently left with what can only be described as a total mess.
Irritated and blotchy would be an understatement. Running my hands across my legs reveals that despite my best efforts, my legs aren’t smooth at all. I missed about a thousand hairs. How can that be? That means I am going to have to try this thing again. Like tomorrow. The box says you can go 4 weeks between episodes. It also says it gets less painful with time. It also says you can use this thing on your nether regions and your face and your armpits. Ouch.
Hair is such a complicated thing. Some of it we want and some we don’t. Our bodies put so much effort into its formation, yet I have no appreciation for its beauty, especially when it’s in places I don’t want. It keeps our skin protected and warm. Yet its presence in certain places is absolutely repulsive. Like on my chin or those crazy looking ones on the top of my big toe. Eww.
I don’t know why it matters, but it does. Men don’t seem to care about this stuff. Hair on a man is welcome, it is celebrated. That first chin hair, that little fuzz above the lip that barley constitutes a mustache, it is lovingly manicured and groomed. Those little hairs would never be ripped out from the root and discarded like such rubbish.
I mechanically ripped those little hairs out today and you know what, those little hairs needed to go. By any means necessary.