Wednesday, January 11, 2006

The Torture of Women

There is no doubt that women endure all kinds of crap to look like...well...what men think we should look like thanks to anorexic, coke fueled models, fashion magazines, actresses with personal Chefs, Personal Trainers and months at a time with 8 hours a day at the gym, and porn.
Women are made to feel as though they have to pump botox into their faces, chemicals into their lips, and silicon into their breasts in order to feel beautiful.
All of this is painful, and expensive shit.
I, being of the modest income variety am limited in what
a) I can afford and
b) What I am willing to do in order to live up to some sort of womanly standard.
Being of Eastern European agricultural engineering stock, my main battle over the years has been with hair.
I have used or tried everything on the market.
Many, many of which did not work.

Oh yes...I fell for those infomercials about the sugar based, spreadable crap that is supposed to work like wax...I fell for it because it was being pushed by a family of Middle Eastern women...and if anyone should know hair removal, they should.

They lie.
They lie like Persian rugs!

I would like to introduce you to an instrument of torture...The Epi.lady.
This was probably the worst experience I've ever had with anything that plugs in and claims to rid me of leg hair.
This little tool of the devil is an electrical device with two flexible coils that go in opposite directions to excruciatingly pull out hairs one by one as you drag it down your chosen appendage.
This is the only thing I own that I have not been able to give away.
Every time I try to give it to someone, it comes back like a boomerang within a day or two, with the trier-outers' lip trembling at the memory of their date with The Ep.ilady.

It still sits menacingly in the cupboard under our sink in the bathroom securely subdued in the fake leather pouch it came in.
I don't think that they make the model I own anymore...I think that perhaps the legend has instilled fear and nightmares in little girls all over the world.
But trust me existed.