Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair.
Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn’t very fuzzy, was he?
I, like Wuzzy, am no longer very fuzzy. What brought about this lack of fuzz?
My new epilator.
What’s that you say? You’ve never heard of an epilator? Neither had I until I was introduced to it by a fellow teacher in Russia. It is a magical little device armed with dozens of little tweezers that pull out your hair. Like waxing without wax. I shall never shave again, says I.
Isn’t is a thing of beauty?
Why would anyone inflict this pain upon themselves, you ask. Ah, tis not pain but bliss. It has been 2 weeks since I first epilated, and my legs are still as hairless as Mr. Clean’s noggin.
There are limits to its magic, though. I have heard success stories involving epilators and underarm areas, but alas, I cannot say that I am one of them. When I tried it, I felt like someone took scissors to my skin and was brutally chopping off chunks of flesh. I escaped without battle wounds but it may be while before I can work up to hairless underarms.