When it comes to hair removal cream no one ever talks about the “what can go wrong” bit.
It’s been a stressful day with work, I may be slightly hormonal due to the imminent arrival of my lady curse, and for everyone’s safety I decided I’d have a bit of pamper time, some me time and I’d soak in the tub.
After pigging out on a huge home cooked banquet of burgers and chips lovingly prepared by my babies, I left my boy washing up, my husband blowing up battleships and my daughter curling her hair for 70 billionth time this lock down.
On arriving in the bathroom I was confronted with what can only be described as the bathroom from the boys dorms in college. If I’m honest, cleaning in lockdown has been a bit lax, so what confronted me can only really be blamed on my laziness.
There were wet towels on the floor, splash marks up the walls, a mixture of pubic hair and dog hair on every surface and a mouldy soap scum crust across all the tiles and chrome in the room.
Before running the bath a quick spruce and I could enjoy my luxury bubble bath in a clean fresh setting.
What started with a quick wipe with homemade vinegar cleaning spray quickly turned into a 1 hour deep cleanse. I realised this eco friendly stuff just didn’t have the balls for the bombshell that is my bathroom so broke out the bleach. Also the soft cloth just wasn’t doing it, so rather than walk down stairs for the scrubbing brush I grabbed my rather expensive natural wood and bristle nail brush. 60 minuets later the air is filled with mould spores, the brush is fit for the bin, I can hardly breath due to the bleach which is also burning my eyes and nose hair and the floor is awash. But hey! The bathroom is now reasonably clean.
I start running my bath, light the candles and burn some incense ready for rest and relaxation.
Que the mass family visit up the stairs.
My son needs to brush his teeth, daughter suddenly needing to tell me all about her lock down day whilst loudly peeing followed by my husband popping up, just needing to dash in the bathroom ….he won’t be long…. Where has the rottenest poo he could muster.
I give the room some air and sort a playlist that I can relax too.
Another 20 mins and the room is fit for human occupancy
At last the quiet, stink-free solitude I need will be mine!
I slowly sink into the warm bath.
I rest my head back, close my eyes……the puppy starts scratching at the door, eventually pushing the broken lock enough with her nose that she can get in. She’s jumping around like a loon, yapping and wanting to play with the bubbles. I try to ignore her but that’s just not going to happen.
Ffs! I think “ Someone sort her, please!! ” I scream. Daughter faithfully ducks in, scoops up the pup and closes the door behind her.
I lie back, close my eyes again and listening to the tones of MCRs “I’m not okay”. A rather poignant choice as halfway through they get cut off. The battery’s dead in the speaker.
I really am not ok! But I can pull this back! That’s fine I think. I’ll just lie here in the piece and quiet.
Next door I hear the neighbours dog start to bark, which sets off the puppy again. The house the other side a toddler starts to cry.
Refusing to let my pamper time be ruined, I wash my hair and apply a deep cleanse mask that I’d quickly grabbed from the basket in my room. It’s only when I apply it I realise that its actually a blue rinse from when I bleached my hair.
I decide to leave it on, despite it making me look like a smurf.
As I relax I remember my friend boasting this evening on fb that for the first time in ages she has lost enough weight that she could successfully shave her minge.
Now whilst I am forever proud of my buddies amazing success I do like a challenge and saw this as one.
Surely my lockdown diet of scones, mars bars and bounty bars has not done that much damage to my svelte figure I thought? Oh how I was fucking wrong.
I lather up, then realise actually with my burger filled belly I have no chance of navigating the razor without doing some serious damage.
Rinsing off I think “That’s ok! I have some hair removal cream. I’ll successfully defluff the lazy way!”
I quickly rinse my hair before I turn into a perminant smurf and bind it in a small towel before draining the tub so I’m not left in a pool of fuzzy filth.
I liberally apply the cream whilst stay on my knees in the tub to let the magic work.
Despite advertising this stuff as natural berry blush after a few minuets my already delicate nose from excess bleach burn can no longer stand the stench of burning hair, I decide to scrap off.
Now what no one ever talks about with hair removal cream is what can go wrong when A) you’re lazy and B)you have let your garden grow wild in lock down. It’s like the illustrations from the 1970s classic “the joy of sex” down there.
I run the provided plastic scoop across my mound.
Nothing happens.
I obviously didn’t wait long enough.
I apply some more and start counting back from 300.
I try again.
Still no hair is shifting. All I am doing is leaving scarlet scraps across my bits.
Bollocks !
I check the use by date.
2 years out! No wonder it’s lost it’s potency.
So I grab the shower head and rinse.
Something feels decidedly wrong.
Some of my hair has indeed been removed, but rather than rinse away like the adverts promotes. No! No such luck. The bastard stuff has welded itself to the hair that’s still attached! What should be a beautiful clean ladygarden now has dreadlocks!
I grab the box of bic razor I had originally planned to use and blindly fumble hacking and scraping at the wiry roots that refused to give up. Within minutes the cheap disposable razors are so matted they’re fit for the bin.
I lean forward to see if I can make out what’s happening down there.
The small hand towel I’ve wrapped my hair in catches on the candle.
I get it off my head at lightning speed dunking under a running tap before throwing it in the sink.
I pause.
The room is silent, apart from the soft dull thuds of my husbands pc bang bang banging as he continues to blow up his battleships.
He will never know!
I reach for his all singing all dancing very expensive electric shaver that I swore never to use on my nether naughties.
I fire it up.
Damn it loud!
I turn it off and look at the selection of different heads. Nasal hair? No, sculpt and shape? I’m well past that. EventuallyI opt for the straight original style blades and blindly go to work. Biting down on a soggy flannel stifiling my cries I slowly trim off what remains.
By the time I’m done, it’s like Marie Antoinettes last public outing down there. Cuts are swelling and I’m pretty sure I’ve lopped off a bit of my Labia.
Bundling up wads of loo roll I try to staunch the bleed.
I hear a noise outside the door. “You alright in there love?” My husband asks
“Yes” I stutter.
“I thought I could hear a noise” His spider senses have picked up the noise of his precious clippers through the floorboards.
“No love, just the taps vibrating” I try to stand up to put his clippers away. Where I’ve been on my knees for forever I can hardly stand. I totter over and land in a heap on the floor.
He opens the door.
I grab my dry bath towel to wrap myself up and hide the clippers underneath.
“What you doing down there” he asks.
“Just wiping up spilled bath water” I grin up at him.
“ can you smell burning?”
“Just my incense sticks”
I realise that the bath towel I’ve wrapped round my clean body is already damp and that the puppy had peed on it, so now I need to shower again.
I look around the room. The bath is blocked with matted hair, every surface is back being covered in fluff and the tiles are blue from the hair treatment.
“Did you enjoy your nice relaxing bath?” he asks