Hair removal. A chore, a bore and a modern necessity. Also an area which I have rudely overlooked in the last few months.
It’s amazing how when the money is tight, something so painful, can actually seem so covetable.
I’d love to be able to march into my local ‘brow bar’ and have the irritated Indian lady take out her angst on my eyebrows. I would even like the funds to be able to ‘treat’ myself to a little Hot Wax treatment at Dove Spa. But for the time being, at least, it’s not going to happen.
I’m not very good with the girlie stuff. Well, there’s that, and the fact that I think I must have a recessant ape gene in me, which means hair literally sprouts from, er, everywhere. That’s why I chose to have my eyebrows threaded instead of plucking at home. One friend raised her, neatly shaped, eyebrow when I mentioned that I pay someone to do my grooming for me, but at the end of the day I think it’s better to know your limits. Better that, than ending up with no eyebrows, no?
Such is my desire for hair removal that I’m putting spa vouchers on my birthday list. I’m sure whomever is purchasing will think I’ll be indulging in a nice relaxing back massage, rather than having my hairs ripped out at the follicle – but hey, cosy as it is – the Chewbacca look just isn’t for me.