There is one thing I hate about my Maltese heritage. Body hair! I know that beards are in fashion; and a bearded lady even won Eurovision last year. But really, I’m so over it. I remember going to the doctors and I said “I’m worried, I think I’m turning into a man. I’m … growing something.” He look horrified, leaned forward in his chair and in a secretive whisper asked “What?” I moved towards him, paused, and whispered back “A beard.” He almost looked disappointed!
He bloomin’ well laughed out loud at me. All he said was “Do you have European heritage?” I said I did. Maltese. Apparently it’s the legacy that is handed down to us all, men and women alike. Men can look like razorbacks (a hairy black pig that looks like it’s got a mohawk up its spine), and women can look like men. I can relate to the term sasquatch now. Because I’m starting to look like one. Just call me “Mrs Bigfoot”. Not because I’ve got big feet, but because of … well … Bigfoot! Truly. Once I refused to shave my legs for 2 months, and it looked like spiders legs were hanging over my socks. And my chin can look like a mohair chin-strap. As I said, I’m over it!!
So – I bought an epilator; to rip the lot out by the roots.
Maybe I should have thought about it more. Because I went straight in for the kill. I started with my armpits. B.I.G. mistake!
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, determined that the hairy pit was going to vanish and be replaced by a porcelain looking surface. I turned the little hair remover on and watched the spinning tweezers whir into action, revving like a lean-mean-hair-stripping-machine. I raised one arm. I slowly moved the “e” towards the quivering mohair mat, then pushed straight into in. I screamed and my body started jerking around the bathroom like I had been electrocuted. I stopped, threw the machine onto the vanity and felt a cold goose bumpy feeling creep from the back of my heels to the top of my head. My eyes started to roll back into my skull and my vision start to blur, noise sounding distant, and I’m sure I was about to lose consciousness. I staggered to the edge of the bath and sat down.
When I’d recovered from the first attempt; I continued. I was going to finish the job. After a moment I picked up the implement of torture and managed to finish the one armpit. It took 6 attempts, 30 minutes and pained squeals like an animal being slaughtered.
I’d never felt anything like it. I was NEVER able to epilate my arm pits again.
After a few weeks I tried it on my face. To be honest, ripping the moustache out was just as painful! One moustache removal and I had tears running off my face. Oh, I wasn’t crying … that’s just how much it made my eyes water.
I saw my sons having an arm wrestle and they were arguing about who was the strongest. I said women were because we had to endure an epilator. To prove it; I got them both to put their arms out to see which one could endure a 1 inch removal of hair with an epilator. They both screamed louder than I did!
So I say to any man that thinks he is tough. You wanna prove it … try an epilator!
© 2015 CEW
Originally posted on my old blog site
Hairy legs image courtesy of Ryan McGuire http://www.gratisography.com/#0