Hair Removal for Dummies

When I was about thirteen, I decided it was time to shave my legs. I remembered my grandmother saying that she shaved every day, on dry skin, without any kind of shaving cream, before she took her bath. So that's what I did. I'm pretty sure I cut myself once or twice with the razor, but what I recall most vividly is the incredible rash of raised, red, stinging welts that covered my legs afterwards. It was neither attractive nor comfortable. I was mortified.

Lesson #1: always use a shaving gel or cream on your legs.

Eventually, I figured out the shaving thing, but I never liked how quickly the stubble appeared (overnight!?!). And the fact that my skin was a little sensitive meant that I couldn't shave every day, which left me terribly self-conscious that someone would notice the millimeter of stubble and get everyone to start calling me Gorilla Girl. (Don't tell me things like that didn't happen in your high school. That was a totally legitimate fear.)

When I was in college, I thought perhaps there might be a better way. So I went down to the local beauty college (here's a tip: beauty schools charge almost nothing for procedures that spas charge a lot for!) and I had the lower halves of my legs waxed (here's another tip: you pay almost nothing because a student who has not graduated from How To Wax Legs School is doing the procedure). Here's what I have to say about that experience: I have tremendous respect and awe for anyone who has lived through a real fire. I was in such intense pain that I could not stand to have even a sheet over my legs that night as I slept.

Lesson #2: these procedures require actual professionals.

Waxing, apparently, was not the answer either. So I went back to shaving.

I did occasionally try waxing again, with more experienced people doing the job -- but the cost was so prohibitive and the student salaries were so small that I generally confined myself to bikini line necessities right before a beach week.

Somewhere along the way, I tried depilatory cream. Seriously, whoever thought that putting chemicals so strong their "fragrance" will singe your nose hairs into a sweet little pink package and promising "instant results" was a giant sadist. Not only does the stuff stink like burning rubber; it's also messy and complicated. And, it doesn't remove all the hair from your legs anyway.

Lesson #3: if the box makes it sound too good to be true, it probably is.

I discovered "sugaring wax" at once point and thought I'd found nirvana. It's a gooey substance in a dispenser like the old roll-on deodorant. You warm it slightly, roll it on, and use cloth strips to remove wax and hair in one quick motion. But because it's made of sugar instead of wax, the residue rinses right off when you're done. And, for reasons I cannot explain, it works many times better than regular wax (yes, I have tried home waxing kits too). Of course, the brand I loved was discontinued, and I have yet to find another that works as well.

Lesson #4: when you find a beauty product you adore, buy a whole shelf worth so that you have time to find a reasonable substitute for when it's taken off the market.

I tried pre-waxed strips (pretty good: much easier than warming wax and trying to spread it on yourself, but time consuming and not perfect).

After every foray into some new Hair Removal System, I'd sigh resignedly and go back to buying razors. Of course, over all those years, razors had gone from having one blade to two blades to three blades, now with gel strips and softening agents, and who knows what other absurdities. But the fact remained that the stubble? Was not my friend.

Then I was pregnant throughout a long winter and quit removing hair from my legs altogether. I'm sure it looked terrible, but I could no longer see my own legs, so I didn't care.

Lesson #5: beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Then I decided to try something like an epilady, which is basically a gizmo that you use like a razor, but that yanks out the hairs instead of cutting them. Advantages: hair pulled out grows back much finer than hair shaved, which means that stubble is barely noticable (you can feel it but not really see it). Disadvantages: the first time you use this thing, you are sure you've been transported back to the Middle Ages and subjected to a torture device. But once you get through that initial uncomfortable (on a scale of splinter removal to childbirth, I'd call it a solid "kicked a stone wall barefoot") procedure, weekly maintenance is not really painful at all. And, it works. And there was much singing.

However, I am finding that it leaves me prone to a lot of ingrown hairs, which are increasing in number the more I use this thing. Also, now that the hair on my legs is finer, I think the gizmo misses more of them, which is terribly annoying.

Lesson #6: even a silver bullet isn't perfect.

So now, here I am, nearly forty, and still annoyed by my leg hair. Which seems completely teenaged girl of me, but there you have it. I know there are people who will say, "Just don't worry about it. There's no rule that says you must get rid of it." Those people, however, are either (1) way more granola than I am; or (2) blond, and therefore unaware of what the legs of good strong Eastern European stock look like in their full complement of hairitude; or (3) very fond of slacks, even in summer.

I am this close to starting to experiment with my own recipes for sugaring wax out of a desperate desire for something that honestly just should not be this complicated.

Either that, or I'm buying stock in LongPantsYearRound.com.