Yes, I know we've discussed this before, but I find tends to be a never ending battle of sorts. Unfortunately, hair often seems to win. O_o
A few Christmases ago, Charlie asked me what I wanted. I told him I wanted a buzzer for my legs, something to shave them with when they get hairy, which happens more frequently than he likes because, well, I just don't care to shave my legs often. You see, when I let the hair on my legs grow, because that few extra minutes to shave my legs is just too long, a bushwhacker would have a hard time mowing it down. Seriously, I have some hairy-ass legs. Poor Charlie has to put up with it probably about six months out of the year. Because once it grows, I'm going to need a buzzer just to get it down to stubble before I can use a razor on it for that silky smooth feeling. I learned that in high school. (Two hours and four or five quality blades later, the bottom half of my legs were bare. And, no, I'm not kidding.) I'm not quite as bad as Sasquatch, and Charlie still has hairier legs than me, but my legs are hairy.
So, I ask for a buzzer for Christmas. It's not an exciting present, but, hey, it's something I need. And now that I am, um, 29--again, I can find my excitement in other areas. (grin)
It'd been more than a few months since I'd shaved. The forest was thick. I couldn't wait to open that buzzer and start clear cutting. (And, no, I don't replant as that hair grows rather quickly. grin) Charlie handed me the gift, his eyes shining with anticipation, I ripped it open, and my mother, sister, and I laughed. The excitement in his eyes snuffed out. I didn't mean to laugh, but I couldn't help myself. Charlie hadn't taken me seriously when I'd said, "Buzzer." He'd bought me the Remington Smooth & Silky, always smooth, always silky. Uh-huh.
"You don't like it?" he asked.
"Well, honey, I asked you for a buzzer, not a lady's shaver. This thing won't even scratch the surface. I'd like it...if I used these things. They just don't work on my legs." (Nor does Nair, but that's another story.)
"Oh." He looked down. "Well, I guess you'll be buying yourself a buzzer."
I grinned. "Yup."
Fast forward nearly a year and three months later. I'm on my way to EPICon in Colonial Williamsburg. Razors aren't allowed in carryon on flights. (Because, you know, I might actually nick someone with it. Of course, when I think about some of the nicks I've done to myself...) I think, well, my leg hair is stubbly. I'll try this Smooth & Silky razor. I can use it in the shower. It might be pretty cool.
It's Saturday night. I have thirty minutes or so to get ready for the gala. I'm going to wear my gold-sequined dress. I want my legs smooth and silky. The razor has been charging for the past couple of days. It's ready; I'm ready; the hair is ready. Only one problem: it doesn't work. That's right. I run that stupid, ass shaver over my legs several times and not one single stubble falls. No little pieces of hair in the bottom of the tub. Nothing. My hair just laughs at the shaver (kind of like it did with the Nair some, um, ten, or so, years ago.)
Soaking wet, I leap out of the shower, wrap a towel around me, and dash across the hall to see if one of my fellow con goers has a razor. Any old razor (because the gift shop had nothing--I checked earlier just in case something like this happened). Would you believe one of those throw away razors worked better than this $30 (whatever it was) shaver? That's just sad.
Later, I find this little card included with the shaver instructions. (Yes, there is an entire pamphlet on how to use the shaver--because, apparently, I am too stupid to know how to use a shaver. Again, another blog for another time.) This card says:
"Your skin needs approximately 3 weeks to adjust to your new Remington shaver after using a blade.
"Once your skin adjusts, you'll get an incredibly close, comfortable shave GUARANTEED. For best results, clean your shaver after each use."
Okay, peeps, after reading about my leg hair, how do you think my legs will look after three weeks of use by this sad excuse of a shaver?
Eep! Time to bring out the buzzer!
I hate throwing things away, but who would want to use a piece of well-marketed crap like this? Maybe I'll find someone.
Next up on Thursday: Why can't hair just stay where it belongs?