And those words kept nibbling away until I found myself standing in front of the razor isle in Wal-mart today. Knowing that if they sold one of these contraptions, well I would probably take it home.
Thank goodness I didn’t see any.
Until I read the price tag markers on the shelf and the word ‘epilator’ caught my eye.
I crouched down, and tucked away at the back of the shelf, almost as if this evil thing needed to stay out of the light, was the Remington Epilator 6025.
Seventy some odd bucks later and it was mine.
I am pretty sure I was hoping this machine had to charge up for a day first, but no, the damn thing can work fine on its cord right out of the box, or I could wait 16 hours to charge up its batteries.
“I’m going to try this,” I told Jeff.
I lifted my pant leg right there at the kitchen table.. just to see… just a few… just to see what this thing was all about.
Well sweet baby jesus it felt like electronic shocks on my leg.
42 tweezers, twirling around, on a high speed or low, ready to grab my hairs, hairs of any length, and rip them out by their root ball.
I took it outside, full of confidence that the cool autumn air, and afternoon sunshine would dull the sting.
That carried me through another two square inches.
“It sounds like a lawnmower,” Jeff said.
“It’ll be so worth it”, I mutter, “The box says I’ll be hair free for six weeks!!”
This was not going to be some easy walk in the park. I needed somewhere I could meditate with this thing.
Upstairs I went. Somewhere comfortable. Somewhere alone. Somewhere with a TV to distract me from my pain.
I sat on the end of the bed.
I plugged it in, and started it up. And cursed. Then turned it off. I panted. I cringed. Then did some more.
And 30 minutes later, my legs are hair free.
And maybe a little swollen.
But just wait. Tomorrow they’ll be glorious.