I hate you! You are a time consuming and painful little nuisance in my life. What is it that I have done to you that you treat me in such a way? The nicks and razor burn, the dull blades and expensive refills and all the creams and lotions and exfoliating accessories.
I don’t understand how it can all add up so fast. If only I had the money to sit in a salon and pay some nice young lady to personally pluck, laser or wax away all my body hair…you would be so gone! And tell me, why is it that you don’t come with some kind of little robot that could have a steady hand and wouldn’t nick me, or definitely wouldn’t let me leave on a hot date or a trip to the OB-GYN office with that one hair that I missed that seems to be growing at an alarming rate once I notice it?
Be grateful that I am broke and that I don‘t want to look (completely) like a hairy hippy. Even when I do spend the time with you, one body part to the next, by the time I get it all done I need to start over again. Sometimes I think I could walk to Brazil faster than I can try and shave that specific area with no help.
Be grateful of your place in my life, because someday…oh, let me tell you, your history!