My First Time

I don’t remember how old I was my first time, but I do recall that it wasn’t the sublime experience I thought it was going to be. And now there are so many products on the market that are supposed to aid in the process, I can’t keep my head from spinning!

I hate to admit it, but I’ve tried them all. From those foul smelling depilatories, to the strips that rip the hair from the roots (not to mention half of your skin), to the most recent product that claims to be a painless, hair removing brulee; I’ve been a sucker every time.

If I saved the money I’ve spent on hair removal products over the years, I would be living in my dream house with the swimming pool. Every time I fall for one of these new improved products, I end up kicking myself because I should know better. It must be the promise of never having to shave again that makes me want to believe these products will work, only to end up looking like a pretzel in the bathtub with strips stuck to my legs because I’m too afraid to pull the next one off. Or because the brulee is so sticky I can’t pull my fingers away from my armpits.

There was a time about fifteen years ago when I spent an ungodly amount of money on a device that actually pulls the hair out by the root, and presto – you’re hair free for months! At the time I bought this hair removal apparatus, I wasn’t dating anyone and I wasn’t working, so I had a lot of time on my hands. It took me exactly one week to remove the hair from just one leg.

My sister and I went into the store together to check out this item before one of us actually spent money to buy it. The lady who worked in the store explained that she couldn’t let us buy it without trying it first, because too many people had complained about the pain and wanted to return the item. In other words, if I bought it, I was stuck with it, because the store was no longer giving anyone money back. Before I could agree or disagree to this tryout, the woman was ripping hair out of a spot on my forearm, and my first reaction was to lash out at her. I refrained, but it didn’t stop me from buying the hair removal system.

What was I thinking? I never used the system again after that first time, taking two complete weeks to finish both legs from the knee down. I ended up giving it to a friend of mine years later, who said she loved the one she had but it was broken, and believe it or not, the stores weren’t selling them anymore. I only had one question for my friend – Mary, why?

I’m not saying these products don’t work. I’m saying they don’t work as well, or in the capacity as they are promised to.

There have been days where I’ve actually believed my life would be perfect if I didn’t have to worry about the hair on my legs. I find myself flipping through the pages of magazines and wonder how all these models and actresses take care of their hair removal. Do they suffer indescribable pain to have someone rip their hair out by the roots? Maybe they do.

Now there are the new products that claim to be made out of such natural ingredients that you can eat them. Why would I want to eat something that’s supposed to be used as a hair removal product? There’s even a new sugaring type product I’ve seen on a late night infomercial that the creator named after one of her daughters. I know I couldn’t sleep, but the name sounded more to me like a male body part.

No matter which hair removal system you decide to use, you always have to let your hair grow to a certain length before the product can be successful. And that means not wearing anything that would require your legs or underarms to show, and constantly living with the fear that your deodorant isn’t working. I have a friend who once told me that she hadn’t shaved in a while, and when she got into bed with her husband, he asked if she was wearing pants.

After all the straying I’ve done, I always come back to my razor. I don’t love it, but I like it. It’s dependable. It’s a pretty color. It’s inexpensive. And it does exactly what it promises to do. No gimmicks, no fancy name, no expensive price tag, and the manufacturer doesn’t entice me to try and eat it. It even has a moisture strip for my protection.

I’ll never forget the first razor my mom bought me – it was a horrifying lime green color. I’m sure I still have it somewhere; hidden behind the hair removal creams, wax strips, and the edible brulee. I suppose if I’m truly desperate during the next diet craze, I can always crack open that bottle of brulee. There can’t be too many calories in there, can there?

© Kathleen Strelow 2005