Always in search of the perfect hair removal trick, I was at it again.
When I found this device called the Epicare- retailing at less than $20 with free shipping- I was like a June Bug flying towards the light. The YouTube’s on it were sensational. I watched as some Norwegian woman lightly ‘buffed’ all of her unwanted facial hair off in a matter of minutes. Except I knew it wasn’t buffing, it was pulling, but if she could endure it with that pretty face, so could I.
When it came in the mail, I tore open the outer packaging to reveal a skinny black box of about 10 inches. Etched in gold was the cursive word, “Epicare.” Fancy.
I pulled out the product- a long narrow pipeway of metal coils, capped by what looked like old school pink pencil-topper erasers at either end. What an absurd contraption. I flung it around by one handle, amused by its slinky-bow reflexes.
I heard my husband in the driveway and threw it to the side, embarrassed by yet another strange vanity product that ‘most women’ probably never have to use.
When he came through the door, he saw my half-sorted mail and went to see if there was anything for him. He saw the Epicare.
It was like I had been hit with genius. Struck by a source of wicked that shocked even myself.
“Oh, I got that for us.” I said.
A confused look (rightfully) came across his face.
“It’s a ….. toy,” I stammered. We all know very well where I was going with this. Of all uncharacteristic things to do, this was surely it. I was trying to convince him that I had not only been looking but also purchased a bedroom product, and then had it shipped to the house.
Confusion continued. So I did what I do best- I elaborated in the free air space.
“See, this side goes in the front; this side goes in the back.” I bowed it to show its flexibility.
As soon as I was out with it, I had to mask my own horror. Can you imagine? Can you imagine if someone chose to use this device in such a way? It would literally tear all the hair from between your seams. I shuddered.
“I bought it on Amazon. That way we won’t be receiving any trashy magazines or anything like that and it was discreet.” The lies proliferated, but I was sturdy as a rock.
He got up from the couch and just walked away. Just like that. No amusement, intrigue, just a linger of concern and disgust.
As soon as he was out of eyesight, I grabbed the Epicare and a box of Cheez-its (which I figured I may as well return to the pantry since I was getting up), and went running in his direction to spill the (true) beans. But my platform shoes were no match for the race I was in and I ended up sprawling on the hardwoods, Cheez-its crushed and Epicare rolling right at his feet.
About 30 minutes later, he came upstairs to find me ‘buffing” my facial hair off with the Epicare. Boy that had to be weird.