Wax, epilate, pluck, shave, bleach and laser. You may think this is just a list of possible ways that one could remove unwanted hair but it’s not… it’s my to do list…
For some reason, during my creation, when cells were multiplying, so too were the hair follicles all over my tiny, globule body.
In my mind there was a sperm sergeant yelling at his troop, “Multiply, multiply, multiply, no one goes home until this whole terrain is seen to, and don’t think you can skimp on the toes just because we’re working on a female!” But perhaps I shouldn’t base my knowledge of cell division on cartoons…
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want you reading this and imagining a yeti typing away, only pausing to brush away the hair that is creeping lower and lower down my forehead as the years pass. No, no, I’m smooth all over just like you “blondes”, (I say with a facial expression that has come to be known as my “bitch face”); it’s just that I have to put a huge amount of time and money into being this way. The amount of cash I’ve forked out to willingly have laser beams pointed at me all in the name of vanity, doesn’t bear thinking of.
Was I ever to find myself in a hostage situation I can rest safe in the knowledge that my captors would probably release me after a few days when they saw I was starting to “turn” like overripe fruit sprouting spores. At least a small comfort can be found in the fact that my sister is in the same boat and still has flashbacks of always having to be the daddy in schoolyard role-playing because of her dark and wooly arms.
My mother didn’t even want to have kids because she thought it unkind to continue what can only be put down to some kind of fucked up curse that my ancestors were involved in a millennia ago. When we did pop out with fully-grown mops, looking like tiny Russell Brand dolls, she even referred to us as her “monkey babies”. Thanks mom.
Well this monkey is all grown up and wants to make a shout out to anyone else who feels they got an unfair amount of hair when the genes were being handed out. Put down those tweezers, turn off the rattling, torture machine known as an epilator and raise a glass…
Cheers to Suzanne with the chin stubble. A toast to all the Terry’s with shoulder tufts and the Franks with grassy knolls for knees. And a little “hang in there” to Mary with monobrow and the Tom Selleck ’tache. One day there will be a place for us, one day…
