May 312001
 

NXFor those of you who know me, you know that I’m a rather hairy person; and for those who don’t, well, you’re about to find out. First of all, I blame this whole ordeal on AT&T—I’ll explain why later. One late night, while suffering from a bout of insomnia and with nothing to watch on TV, I found myself lured into an infomercial for a hair removal product called Nad’s. Okay, I thought the name was funny and so I watched as various women raved about this product and how absolutely wonderful it was. I watched, completely intrigued, as one woman after another ripped hair from their legs and claimed that it didn’t hurt. I thought to myself, yeah right, but I bet it would really hurt on a guy.

First, let me describe this product. It is basically a composition of molasses, sugar, honey and various other sticky, goopy substances. You apply this stuff to the area in which you want to remove hair, place a linen strip over the goop, rub it a few times, then RIP the strip off, taking any unsuspecting hair underneath with it.

So, as I’m thinking, no way, that’s gotta kill, they have a gent come on who offers his leg for demonstration. So the lady does her stuff to his leg, rips the strip off then asks him if it hurt. “No,” he says. Okay that’s when I really got interested. It didn’t hurt? But how couldn’t it have hurt? After watching the rest of the infomercial I thought to myself, you know, I should try this stuff. After all, they claimed the hair would come in thinner after it regrew as opposed to thicker which happens with shaving and depilatory creams. Yes, I must have this amazing product.

So after days of silent contemplation I finally visit their web site and order me a tub of this goop. I get it in about a week. At first I just stared at the stuff wondering when I’d work up enough nerve to try it. Several days passed and finally one night, while my wife was at work, I decided to give the goop a go.

But what part of my body should I volunteer for possible mutilation? Then it occurred to me, if I do one part of my body, I’m going to have to do all of it. Again, knowing me you would understand why: there’s really no clear stopping point. So I decide to try it on my knuckles. I figure that’s a pretty sensitive area so if it doesn’t hurt there then it shouldn’t hurt too bad elsewhere.

After a few minutes of reading the documentation, I finally work up enough courage to do it. I apply the stuff to a knuckle, slap on a linen strip, take a deep breath and rip the thing off. Okay, so it stung a little bit but then they warned that there might be a slight sting the first time you do it, and, after all, it was bearable. So I finish off the rest of my knuckles, wincing every time I rip the linen off. That’s as far as I got that night. It wouldn’t be until about a month later, the day that I write this, that the real shenanigans would commence.

Tonight I again found myself unable to sleep and with nothing to watch on TV. Hey, I think, why don’t I try that hair removal stuff? So off I go upstairs unaware of the antics the next several hours would bring. Removing my shirt, and after several minutes of isolating a strategic place in which to attempt the hair removal again, I finally decide that my belly will be the ideal place. After all, I don’t walk around without a shirt on and who would be able to tell should things go awry.

So I apply the sticky concoction to the area slightly above and to the right of my belly button. Being a slightly cold day, the goop was a little more solid than usual. It was rather uncomfortable just applying the stuff as it is very sticky and pulled the hair as I applied it. When I decide that I had put enough on, I gently applied the strip and rubbed it a few times. Here’s where things get kind of fuzzy. I take a deep breath, clench my teeth, then—RIP!!!

Well, I didn’t quite pass out, but man, oh man; I sure wish that I were still downstairs channel surfing. Damn it! That hurt! After taking a few moments to regain my composure I notice, to my horror, the fruits of my labor: a huge bald patch amidst endless fields of hair. It looked reminiscent of the pictures I’d seen from the Vietnam War where they would napalm parts of the forest leaving one area completely treeless. Shit, I couldn’t leave it like this. My wife would never let me live this down. So being a man, and an idiot, I decided to finish the job. Little did I realize at the time what a daunting task this would be.

I continued to apply the goop and rip off the hair, each time trying not to scream out in agony, possibly waking my slumbering son and anyone else within earshot. But after each application and each follicle evisceration I notice that I’m becoming weaker, unable to pull the strips off with the same fervor as the first… okay, why am I bleeding? That’s when I ran out of strips. I look in horror from the hair laden linen strips to my strange yet shocked reflection in the mirror. I looked like I was suffering from a severe bout of mange. Okay, I thought to myself, regroup; let’s think this out. First, I decided to wash off the strips, but they don’t work when they’re wet. It is then that I decide to take a shower while I throw the strips in the dryer so I can finish my dirty work when they’re dry. If all goes well, I’ll be finished before my wife gets home from work at 3:00 AM.

I have to admit, the shower felt good, but somehow the feeling of a bare belly was quite unusual; somewhere along the line I had forgotten what my skin felt like. So after lingering in the shower I decided it was time finish my dirty deed. I went downstairs and got the strips from the dryer then continued back to the upstairs bathroom. This time I placed the tub of goop in the microwave for 15 seconds, making it a little less viscous. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt as much.

Again, I applied the solution and again I ripped: my knees wobbled. Again. Rip. Wobble. That’s it, I couldn’t take anymore. I’d surely pass out if I continued. I didn’t even have the strength to pull off the last one completely. It took two attempts and that just made it hurt that much more. Now what? At that point I was nowhere near being completed. Well, I thought to myself, I’ m just going to have to shave off the rest. So I slapped a new blade on the ole Mach 3 and went to town.

You know, how come you never realize how stupid an idea is until you’re half way into it? Well, my first mistake was putting a new blade in my razor. The second was using a triple-bladed razor. It wasn’t until I began that I remembered that I always seemed to cut myself more shaving with a new blade. Too late: ouch! My third mistake was trying to shave the hair without first trimming it: double ouch!

So, I stopped, washed off the shaving cream, trimmed the hair with my sideburn trimmers, then continued. Finally, I finished. What an ordeal and I looked ridiculous. Then, standing there I realized that the shaved areas are going to grow in sooner than the parts that were ripped away. You know, I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I get to it. I’m such an idiot. From downstairs I heard laughter from some old sitcom rerun—I think it was Three’s Company. They’re laughing at me, aren’t they, I thought?

So here I sit, carefully annotating down the events of the past few hours for your enjoyment. My word of advice to anyone who wants it, live with who you are. It’s too much trouble and sometimes very painful to change. Has anyone else had any experiences like this? I can’t be the only one, could I? Oh, and as for AT&T, had those rat bastards not taken away the Sci-Fi channel from my cable package, I’d never have gotten into this mess. There’s always something good on that channel. Curse you to hell, AT&T!

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