So, even though

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we are all, at times, compelled to remove hair from our collective bodies. Whether you’re trimming an unsightly and/or unruly beard, or trying to tame the wild hair that covers your arms in a sweater-like fashion, you are not alone in this practice.

You’re also not alone if you like to wallow in your body hair, convinced that, if it wasn’t meant to be there, GOD WOULDN’T HAVE PUT IT THERE.

I tend to lean towards that side, but a few weeks ago, I too was compelled to rip every single hair out of my legs. And by compelled, I mean, my dad was like, “Hey Bigfoot, we’re in the razor aisle, want to get on that shit?” (I might be paraphrasing).

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By “shit,” he meant “razors.”

“Enh,” I replied. I honestly hadn’t touched my leg hair in like a year, (MAYBE MORE CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!?!), and while the hair wasn’t as impressive as I had thought it would get, (I was expecting, like, a majestic mane to run my fingers through and it was really more like a patchy one centimeter mess), I still didn’t miss bending over in my dark shower and cutting myself for like an hour while the hot water ran out.

I told my dad as much and he was like, “Why not get Veet or something like that?”

This. This is Veet.

This. This is Veet.

Veet is a cream that you put on your body, and, after a few minutes, scrape away. During the aforementioned minutes, some crazy science shit goes down that makes the hair fall out. Quick, relatively simple, and, (supposedly), painless. I had tried it when I was younger and I seemed to recall it working pretty well.

So it was settled.

*

Later that night, I prepared for my shower and grabbed the Veet, slathering it on my legs. The bottle said to leave it on for ten minutes, or like twelve if you had some seriously heinous hair issues.

I finished the first leg, even though I couldn’t help but wonder if I was putting on too much or too little. Besides that, things appeared to be fine. Until I started on my other leg.

As soon as I applied the cream, I knew there was something wrong. The burning sensation in my leg was a pretty big hint, but I was already this far into it– I couldn’t have one hairless leg! I WOULD LOOK FOOLISH! So I persisted. And the burning got worse.

It felt a lot like how this looks.

It felt a lot like how this looks.

I did my best to ignore it. I’m a toughie. But I couldn’t help the nonstop fantasies of tearing away my red, charred flesh as I tried to scrape the hair off. Finally, I gave in and began to scrape the cream away, praying that I wouldn’t end up in the emergency room.

AND GUESS WHAT

The hair didn’t even come off! (Well, some of it did, but not all of it). I endured that burning for nothing! And the cream left a weird icky residue that felt like somebody rubbed smashed roaches all over my legs. Total bust. Fuck you, Veet. Fuck you.

Also now I have a big bottle of Veet and no idea what to do with it.