My whole life, I have just realized, is about hair removal.
It used to be just about shaving my legs and underarms, but in recent years, it’s become so much more. When I lived in LA, I added eyebrow-shaping to my regimen. This was no mere plucking in the mirror at home, folks: this involved going to a salon in Beverly Hills where my eyebrows were first painfully tweezed and then filled in to create a glamorous arch by a woman named Jessica who still haunts my dreams. I cried almost every tweezing session, but it toughened me up. That was it until I moved back to NYC and hit my 40s. Then I entered some weird VERY early peri-menopause where hairs started sprouting out of my chin. “Get some electrolysis now, before you meet Someone!” my mother advised sagely. So, I got weekly laser treatments that had exactly zero long-term effect. This meant I had to add chin waxing to the routine. And when summer came around, yes, yes, yes, the bikini wax reared her ugly, hairy head. Seriously, I had no choice. Getting it done was practically a requirement from the NYC Health Department. If you thought I cried a lot during an eyebrow shaping, you can imagine the histrionics that go on when I get a bikini wax. The Korean ladies just laugh merrily, though, as they rip my personal parts to shreds. Once one of them said to me, “I guess you’ve never had a baby!” as if I should just shut up and take it. But Wiggles was in awe that i would actually PAY to endure major pain Down There. “You think braces hurt?” she’d say to Sassafrass when she was a mere tween. “Your aunt gets a bikini wax!” as if that would somehow mitigate Sassy’s excruciating palate widening.
So, let’s review: I’ve got legs, armpits, chin, a sometimes-lip, and bikini during those crucial summer months. It’s a wonder I have time to do anything else.