I have this burning question churning inside me. WHO THE HECK CAME UP WITH THE BRIGHT IDEA THAT WOMEN NEED TO BE HAIRLESS? I'd really like to meet that man - 'cause you know it had to be a man! And let's just be objective here for a moment. First of all we have the common razor - the bathroom equivalent of running a sharp knife all over your body. Inevitably, I end up cutting my self. C'mon, are leg scars and bloody scabs really sexy? Then if you really get a doozy of a self-inflicted wound you have the whole band-aid thing to contend with. Either it won't stay on and you end up with a continuous red line down your leg or it sticks too well and it takes an act of God to get the blasted thing off at all. Then your left with a pretty oblong tape ring for a year and a half. And, God forbid, you cut yourself shaving right before you have to don a pair of pantyhose, which is just about torture in and of itself. We could do a whole post on that subject alone. Do people still wear pantyhose? I guess I'm a little old fashioned. Plus, I wouldn't wear a skirt without nylons...unless I was prepared to pass out sunglasses to every Tom, Dick, Harry and Jane I were to come in contact with on that day. The glare off of my walking, peeled bananas would be bright enough to near blind somebody. I'm not prepared to be sued by the whole town of Elwood.
Not only do we have shaving - there is a whole tool kit of sadistic methods of getting the hair out of it's happy home. Since ancient times women have been forced to engage in this barbaric behavior. There is threading - the act of ripping hair from it's roots with a couple of pieces of string. Then we have waxing. In a few moments of mental imbalance I have actually given this a try. All I was left with was burning flesh and the same amount of hair. Who comes up with this stuff? Why do I even try it? There is plucking, my personal favorite. This is my method of choice to ensure I don't end up looking like Bert from Sesame Street. I'm constantly seeing new infomercials promoting some new breakthrough in painless hair removal. Do you actually see "SUCKER" written on my forehead? I didn't think so. But, unfortunately, the older I get the more places I seem to keep seeing unwanted hair spring up. Like the
Do you want to hear a REAL fairy tale? Well, tough, it's my blog and I'm going to tell it anyway. Before MW and I got married we talked about everything. We even made a pact with each other that when we got old we wouldn't let each other get hair in funky places. I wouldn't let his ears get to lookin' like he could grow potatoes in them and he wouldn't let my face get lookin' like someone could mistake me for his brother. That is real love, people. Real love.
Let's talk about feminine facial hair a little more, shall we? I understand (much more than I wish I did) that as women age we often begin to get whiskers a little peach fuzz on the lip that we must ever so delicately deal with. I also know that for some unfortunate women this problem is magnified. If you are one of these ladies, you have my sympathy. But, please, let me share a story with you.
Once upon a time when I was a smokin', hairless, 18 year old hottie, I worked for an internist in town as the receptionist. One day this person came into the office for a visit. This ambiguously dressed human had very long, dark hair with a huge, manly bald spot on the top of the head. This person also had a mustache and beard only to be rivaled by certain members of ZZ Top. I thought that I detected swollen breasts, but didn't want to stare, if you know what I mean. I asked this person a question - hoping that the tone of the voice would clue me into his/her gender. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zip. I was CON. FUSED. If you read much of my blog, you'll remember that I don't handle these situations well. AT ALL. I didn't know if I was looking at a man with boobs or a woman with too much testosterone coursing through her body. If you are me, there really is no way to come out of a situation like this without wearing a donkey head on your shoulders.
Can I just give a word of advise right here for those of you who may fall into this category? If you are going to be dealing with the public, please, for the sake of all that is good and holy, help a sister out. Wear pink, or flowers, or a shirt that says, "Woman Power" or something like that. There's no need to be discreet here. Carry a bona-fide purse. A back pack on your shoulder or fanny pack around your waist only confuses me more. If your name is Pat - sign in as Patricia or Patty - or even or Ms. So and So. Using a unisex name just ain't fair to people like me who tend to make a *hee haw* out of themselves anyway. Or here's a new idea - SHAVE! But, whatever you do, for the tender mercies of God! - Don't give me a bullet to shoot myself with!
So, in light of this story, I guess there is a good reason to shave.
I just thought of another. I once knew a guy named, Big Al. He shaved his name into his back hair. Ew!
On second thought, maybe I won't move my family to Germany. I'll just stay right here in the good ol' U. S. of A.
I'm off to buy some refills for my Schick Intuition. Y'all have a good weekend.