Scantily clad I throw my legs in front of me bringing them to a slight bend as I lean back against the desk and plug in the almost offending device. It is small but daunting, silently mocking me and daring me to give it life, the promise of better tomorrows hanging in the air between us as I assess it warily for a moment before taking a deep breath. Trembling in anticipation, I flick the switch and instantly the silence of my room is filled with a roar that resembles a lawnmower on a Sunday...
A lawnmower on a Sunday?!
Oh dear readers, if your lovely minds thought I was recalling a juicy dirty tale of lonesome antics then you are quite mistaken although I admit I was striving to lead you in the wrong direction! Forgive me but let me explain and you will understand how my introduction came to be.
The offending device in question is not quite a pleasure toy (there, I said it out loud now let us all stop being awkward and exhale for a minute) but rather the opposite: one that makes me tear briefly and sniffle while it tortures me.
Gentlemen, I do not expect you to understand. Ladies, sympathize collectively now - it was the dreaded epilator! (For reference, the one I use is one by Braun but I am unsure of the model type since I swiped this from Mummy.)
The best way to get rid of excess hair without taking a shower or visiting a specialist but the one method that requires a lot of courage and determination, epilating is possibly the best way to attain hairless limbs without running the risk of cutting ones self or bawling at a stranger while howling in pain (or the awkwardness of having someone else do your dirty work for you).
The convenient size of it does little to mask the horrific - as I see them - blades, waiting to clamp onto hairs and tug them out. There are a scattered amount of these stunted tweezers but an effective amount, calculated for the task at hand.
With a flick of a switch it does give a startling roar and trust me on this but the first time I tried it I gulped, looked at it for a good while before tentatively running the menacing device up my leg. It was excruciating! I perspired, I cried, I bit down on my lip and wished for it to be over...only to peek at it and find it barely removing any hairs.
There is no way around epilating except to suck it up and get to it. I do have to agree it does a beautiful job - gentlemen, do not vomit but if you are still reading then bravo! We do this for your benefit after all - only being able to semi-complete one leg my first time and resorting to shaving the other, I found regrowth results were astounding! My shaved leg had an angry regrowth (oh shush, I let it grow out seeing as Scott was not around for me to have to be presentable!) while my other leg boasted hardly any regrowth at all. I marveled at the results and swore I would do nothing but epilate from then on.
Which leads me to conclude that if I had to recommend it I would do so with my life, it is the best option especially for those of us who are quite dark-haired - you know what I mean, the "stubble" is visible much to our chagrin a mere day later.
I just suggest either encouraging yourself with the thought of 'if I were a Victoria's Secret model I would have to do this anyway' as I do or if you really need motivation then just imagine choosing between epilating or a Brazilian wax. There! It is a shot of courage, no? I am assuming you are choosing the former of course, if you choose the latter then...I have no words for you.
And to explain how my dirty mind seemed to relate an epilator to a sex toy, well considering I live in a residential college (albeit hardly filled up at the moment but due to fill up with over one hundred people soon), I can only imagine I might get questioning looks from my neighbors because I am sure they would hardly guess I am using an epilator, I would assume otherwise too if I heard something roar from someones room...
Get your mowers ready Readers and best of luck!
