epi-c torture
What I'm about to reveal is to be passed down the generations. I just got off a call with my mother in which I inquired as to why I was uninformed when she had so many years to warn me. Let no woman remain naive.
On Friday I bought an epilady. Completely overwhelmed by the thought of saving hundreds of hours of shaving and waxing and plucking over the course of my lifetime, I snapped up the last 'Philips Ice-cooler epilator' at 30% off from Boots and hurried home to try out my new purchase.
The horror of what ensued will remain with me always.
Imagine with me, if you will, a million little pins piercing your skin, in succession, for the time that it takes to rid that particular area of every, last follicle. Then a resultant rash so severe that any item of clothing making contact feels like sandpaper. And that was just my legs.
Today, after the shock had dimmed slightly, I decided that I would give it another go. This time I would conquer my under-arms. Unfortunately, the epi-torture-lator conquered me and I was left screaming, sweating from the pain, with blood flowing from my barren pores.
My conclusion: there is no quick and easy solution to hair removal. It is another one of those cruel injustices that the female race must endure, along with childbirth, emotional roller-coasters and 'monthlies'. I'm typing this with my elbows up in the air hoping that the pain will eventually subside. I'm told it will get easier after each use. But how will I possibly pluck up enough courage to pick that contraption up again? I'm thinking an entire bottle of wine and a couple of pain-killers. No sweat.
On Friday I bought an epilady. Completely overwhelmed by the thought of saving hundreds of hours of shaving and waxing and plucking over the course of my lifetime, I snapped up the last 'Philips Ice-cooler epilator' at 30% off from Boots and hurried home to try out my new purchase.
The horror of what ensued will remain with me always.
Imagine with me, if you will, a million little pins piercing your skin, in succession, for the time that it takes to rid that particular area of every, last follicle. Then a resultant rash so severe that any item of clothing making contact feels like sandpaper. And that was just my legs.
Today, after the shock had dimmed slightly, I decided that I would give it another go. This time I would conquer my under-arms. Unfortunately, the epi-torture-lator conquered me and I was left screaming, sweating from the pain, with blood flowing from my barren pores.
My conclusion: there is no quick and easy solution to hair removal. It is another one of those cruel injustices that the female race must endure, along with childbirth, emotional roller-coasters and 'monthlies'. I'm typing this with my elbows up in the air hoping that the pain will eventually subside. I'm told it will get easier after each use. But how will I possibly pluck up enough courage to pick that contraption up again? I'm thinking an entire bottle of wine and a couple of pain-killers. No sweat.
posted by foxy_roxtar at 5:45 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home