My So-Called Chemical Romance

I’m not even going to try to beat around the (ahem) bush about this. I’m a hairy girl. It could be worse, but it could be much, much better. So I found myself reaching for my depilatory. My aunt left it in my apartment about 7 years ago. Yes, I said 7. It’s probably expired, but I wouldn’t know; all the words are in French. Now that I type that, I realize that could be the root of my problem. Anyway I applied the smelly depilatory to my upper lip (no judgments) and sorta lost track of time. I felt a tingle and decided it was time to remove it. I removed a layer of skin and the remaining stray hairs looked blacker and shinier (who knew depilatories had a hair conditioning effect?) than they did before I started. Lucky me! I hope this doesn’t gross you out too much. I mean, if I don’t tell you, who am I going to tell?

My upper lip is en fuego and the ice chips aren’t cold enough to put out the flame that is my mouth area.  But at least I have this ultra-soothing, beauty panacea (also known as raw shea butter). I copped a jar from my girl Shirley who creates all-natural beauty products. Shea butter is dope because it is a great conditioner for your skin and hair plus it has a healing effect on burns, bruises, and cuts.

As I apply a dab on my wounded areas (oh yes, plural), I wonder if having a little extra hair is really worth all this. Something to think about…until I do it all again in a few weeks.