by Laurie Bosley, 2003 copyright. All rights reserved.
One summer day, I decided to try out a new hair removal product for my legs. As a teenager, it was critical to have smooth legs all summer long. Although shaving worked, it was a hastle to shave every day.
As I headed to the bathroom, I grabbed the untried bottle of hair removal cream. As I waited for the tub to fill, I read the words on the front of the box – “Silky smooth legs in just minutes.” As I slid into the tub of warm water, I thought about how easy this process promised to be. “This is too good to be true,” I said as I applied a generous amount of the product to my legs. With both legs propped up, I laid my head back, relaxed and waited for the cream to work.
After ten minutes, I excitedly washed the hair removal product off my legs and examined them closely. After a brief inspection, I sighed as I realized that the process was far from thorough. Only about half of my hair had been removed.
Disappointed, I let out a long sigh and slid under the water with only my face sticking out. After soaking in the warm water for a minute or two, I realized my mistake and sat up as quickly as possible. “Oh no!” I screamed.
I ran both hands through my hair and whispered, “What have I done?” I jumped out of the tub and ran to the mirror. As I faced my foggy reflection, I turned my head from side to side. After a quick examination, I breathed a sigh of relief. All of my hair was still attached – at least for now.
Now turned out to be the operative word because over the course of the next few days my hair started falling out in handfuls. Every morning I’d wake up to find little piles of hair all over my pillow.
For several days, I secretly carried my hair piles to the garbage can in the hall bathroom, trying desperately to remain unseen by Esther. After a few mornings of being spared the humiliation, my luck finally ran out. As I snuck out of my room one morning and quietly tip-toed down the hall, Esther suddenly came out of her room. I must have looked guilty because she stopped and looked at me suspiciously. After a brief pause, I lifted my head up proudly and walked purposefully toward the trash can. With as much dignity as I could muster, I disposed of my newly unattached hair, and then turned on my heel and marched back into my bedroom. As I shut the door, Esther started laughing so loud and so long that I ended up smiling along with her, even though it was at my own expense.
Thankfully, by the end of the week my daily trips to the garbage can became less frequent. Eventually, all of my hair stopped falling out and began to grow back in. From that day on, I learned that if something seemed too good to be true, it probably was.
Wisely, I decided to start shaving again after that fateful day. Even to this day though, I am still teased about this hair-brained idea.