Holy Hairball, Batman!

Well, now that it’s May Day, my mind is beginning to turn towards summer and my upcoming annual family vacation to Myrtle Beach. With that gentle meandering of my mind towards August comes additional images of white sand, rainbow-colored beach umbrellas, European tourists who don’t know any better wearing Speedos, Americans who should know better wearing Speedos, my black bikini languishing in a drawer, and plans to eradicate every hair that ever planned to grow below my neck in the most inhumane and speedy way possible.

So, as far as I know, there are three general techniques one can apply to the idea of hair removal, all vaguely feudal.

1) Mow ‘em: grab yourself a razor in any number of feminine shades of pink or lavender and whack those pesky hairs off at ground level.
2) Yank ‘em: microwave, thick sticky stuff with cloying smell, and wooden paddles. Sound like a torture chamber set up or premise for a kinky porn flick? Of course not. It’s waxing. That’ll teach those bad boys to grow anywhere on your body.
3) Burn ‘em: if you ever get tired of method 1 and 2 (and gosh, why would you?) modern technology offers us the alternative of pointing a large laser at our body and frying each hair individually. This, my friend, is the culmination of molecular theory.

Of course, there is also a method which involves spreading something on your body you leave on long enough to eat the hair off at the root, allowing you to scrape the toxic cream and your little screaming hairs into a trash can. However, as this particular method sounds like animal testing gone wrong, I’ll tactfully ignore it, like that aunt no one ever talks about.

As a female, I have attempted all methods except for the giant laser pointed at my body. Why? Because I’ve seen too many James Bond films. As for the other methods, I’ve found pulling my fingernails out with a wrench preferable to mowing and yanking at my body hair. In fact, I’d rather watch a Hilary Duff concert from beginning to end – with the sound turned up – than shave or wax. Ahh! But society dictates smooth skin for us lucky females and I find, amazingly, that I agree. Women should be mostly hairless.

Men, please note that you are supposed to have hair on both your chest and legs. Feel free to pluck, wax, shave, or laser anywhere else, but please, oh please, do not shave your legs or chest. Nothing says “lives with cats” like having hairless legs.

Anyway, where was I? Right. Dueling with my hair. There’s no way to get around it, I guess. I mean, what’s your alternative? Go au naturale and be mistaken for a feminist or a European? Would that be so bad?

Uh.

I’m gonna go get my pot of wax.

Links for this post:
Hair Removal the James Bond Way