I won't let myself go to seed just because I've gotten married I told myself, as I rinsed the only pants with an elasticated waist I'd brought on honeymoon with me out in the bathroom sink of our room in the Ritz. I'll still shave my legs and stuff. Uh huh. I totally haven't let myself go at all. I bought an epilator for my legs, and I've even used it a few times. It hurts like fuck, though. And the stone I've put on around my middle (and by "middle" I mean all the bits twixt tits and knees) is just padding for the winter. In case I fall in the snow. And the moustache was for Movember.
December is fast approaching, however. I slathered on some randy red lipstick last Tuesday evening, playing dress-up in preparation for a forties-themed party on Saturday night and discovered that there's nothing quite sets off a ginger-blonde 'tache like a streak of Rimmel. So I decided I'd copy Annie and have it threaded. I think I'll just have it beaded next time - I would be far less painful and I'd only look marginally less ridiculous. The nice lady in the salon held the thread between her teeth and thumbs and with a few deft flicks, ripped the offensive little ronnie off my smush. "Do the sideburns too, willya?" I asked her, losing the run of myself entirely. Thinking I will be only fucking beautiful! and imagining all the lipstick I'll wear. Like something from Smack the Pony.
Two minutes later, she was done. "There!" she said, showing me my roaring red face in a little handmirror before smoothing on some cold cream and making soothing noises. "Great!" I said, because that is what I always say when I have just been physically mutilated by healthcare or beauty professionals. "I have very delicate skin" I said "but it will be fine in a little bit, right?" "Right!" she said, and she swiped my credit card.
I pulled up outside the house, my face smarting and radiating an unnatural heat, and I called Andrew to warn him. "I'm home" I said "and Kitty, you're not allowed to laugh." He didn't, to be fair to him. He looked fucking horrified. "Your moustache really wasn't that bad" he said, and now, four days on, as I rub Eurax cream into my raised and bumpy rash, I suppose he was probably right.
December is fast approaching, however. I slathered on some randy red lipstick last Tuesday evening, playing dress-up in preparation for a forties-themed party on Saturday night and discovered that there's nothing quite sets off a ginger-blonde 'tache like a streak of Rimmel. So I decided I'd copy Annie and have it threaded. I think I'll just have it beaded next time - I would be far less painful and I'd only look marginally less ridiculous. The nice lady in the salon held the thread between her teeth and thumbs and with a few deft flicks, ripped the offensive little ronnie off my smush. "Do the sideburns too, willya?" I asked her, losing the run of myself entirely. Thinking I will be only fucking beautiful! and imagining all the lipstick I'll wear. Like something from Smack the Pony.
Two minutes later, she was done. "There!" she said, showing me my roaring red face in a little handmirror before smoothing on some cold cream and making soothing noises. "Great!" I said, because that is what I always say when I have just been physically mutilated by healthcare or beauty professionals. "I have very delicate skin" I said "but it will be fine in a little bit, right?" "Right!" she said, and she swiped my credit card.
I pulled up outside the house, my face smarting and radiating an unnatural heat, and I called Andrew to warn him. "I'm home" I said "and Kitty, you're not allowed to laugh." He didn't, to be fair to him. He looked fucking horrified. "Your moustache really wasn't that bad" he said, and now, four days on, as I rub Eurax cream into my raised and bumpy rash, I suppose he was probably right.
13 comments:
The process baffles me. Thread? Through your face?
Haven't a notion how it works, and not sure I want to either. If it matches the images in my head it must be an awful horror.
Threading sounds only horrible. I first saw it on Toddlers & Tiaras of all places. To think they inflict such agony on children...
Poor Rosie!
Ouch! I hope you guilt your hubby into painful grooming. It makes it worth the pain. My boyfriend is trimming the manbush right now :)
I had the same thing happen the one time I tried threading. By the time the rash died down the hair had grown back, rendering the entire painful process completely pointless.
I was going to stay with a friend who has a very sexy brother too - looking like the bride of Frankenstein was not ideal. Not sure if it's better than looking like the Wolfman's hairier sister though.
Ouch, with collateral effects. The worst of it that the folliclular battle cry is - what doesn't kill us makes us stronger.
Less painful than waxing, my hoop.
I feel completely responsible for this. I have looked up our g-chat conversation and it went like this:
Clare: was the threading horrible? i need to do something with my 'tache but don't want to look jam-faced for two days.
Annie: It was horrible, but it was fast and the redness only lasted about 10 minutes.
Sorry :(
Oh ouch! I've been wanting to get my eyesbrows threaded for ages, but I've very sensitive skin like yourself and I value being able to open my eyes, so I haven't braved it. Don't think I will now.
I'm so curious about your post title...
"all the bits twixt tits and knees"
Ah yes, the long-lost Gerard Manley Hopkins poem.
PS: Smack the Pony was excellent.
PPS: not shaving ftw.
me too, Conor. as you can see from Annie's comment below, i conducted extensive research before submitting myself to the procedure. "does it hurt? then bring it on!"
regrets, i have a few.
surely there's a law against doing it to children, Rabbit?
to be fair to him, Anon, he neither expects nor encourages my disastrous epilatory efforts, professing that he wouldn't change a hair on my head, or anywhere else for that matter. he grooms not, and i should perhaps follow his lead.
Leigh! is there no hope for me? it had gone down a good bit today but seems to be flaring up again. i went to the pharmacist and confessed my shame, to see if she'd give me some magic cure. she told me to go to the doctor, but i am not paying €50 to tell the doctor that i was stupid enough to pay a strange lady another €40 to rip my face off with bits of string only for him to tell me to take some antihistamines and not do it again.
you reckon i should try electrolysis, Conan? (i shudder to imagine the aftermath)
i know, Catherine. LIES. am never reading a beauty blog again.
Annie, you're made of stronger stuff than i. to be fair to you, i don't think most people break out in leprosy after a treatment.
Rod Stewart, Annie Eile. a joke at my own expense, acknowledging my consuming need for positive reinforcement.
i'm quite proud of that little rhyme, Colm. if i still had a beard, i'd stroke it.
*strokes rash, winces, reaches for the Eurax*
Ha! Brilliant post. I love my tash. I pick at it in work.
laser worked very well for me. Then again it takes a bit of commitment (you have to zap the hair at all three stages of the growth cycle or summat)
I remember smearing fresh snow on my poor physog after the first treatment. Well worth it in the end though.
no shortage of fresh snow here at the mo, Devin. more's the fucking pity. my face has returned to its former glory, little blonde 'tache and all. i don't think anyone notices it but me (it's certainly not as noticable as a big scaldy rash) but i am determined to keep pulling and picking at it like some kind of demented trichotillomaniac chimp. BECAUSE I NEVER LEARN.
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