Before I go, let's discuss the Epilady. This is a classic comedy routine, so I thought I might take the fun out of it. Because that is what I do. Take funny conditions and reverse them. Make them go bad, like those bananas I bought a week ago.
I bought eco-friendly bananas which were all green in their little plastic bag. Of course it is a good idea to buy them when they are green, since you don't want that yellow shade to be emerging in the supermarket already, because then they will be brown the minute you put them on the kitchen table. And brown bananas are pure evil. So. Green bananas and me went home. I kept them in their plastic bag in the fruit bowl.
I have this phobia, you see. The minute I put bananas in the house, I fear there might be poisonous spiders on them. Therefore, I keep the bananas in the plastic bag to shield myself from the tarantulas (or their evil eggs which are just waiting to lumber into my ears as I am asleep). After a while, I really fancy the idea of eating a banana, so I forget about the eight-legged murder machines hiding among the greenish-yellow peels. So I open the plastic bag. Usually, that is.This was not the case this week. I was rather afraid of spiders for a whole week, so I left the plastic bag on the bananas for 7 days. This whole thing is taking on Biblical proportions, but you should not have high expectations at all. Warning you. On the seventh day, the bananas were still green. I opened the bag. And a giant spider leapt out of the bag and into my ear! Didn't actually. But! The bananas were all wooden, like branches of an old tree. I could bang them on the kitchen table and start my own little Afro-beat orchestra. Not that I tried. I always stop before trying. That is why I have not married my favourite black-haired British comedian yet (the reason for that is also that I am not a mysterious brunette with a creative career and an appetite for designer drugs. That last part I am not so sure of, I just put that in because I am so jealous I almost can't spell it).
Why did that happen? How could the bananas still be green (but wooden! Bonk, bonk.)? Do they put some mysterious anti-age serum in those plastic bags? If only I had thought of that, I would have slept with the bag on my face. Only to wake up with my ears full of flesh-eating spider babies. My face would be all smooth, though.
Ah, the Epilady. Thought it would be the answer to all of my dreams, really. I don't know about you, but all of my nightmares are tales of embarrassing body hair. I had this thought today, what if I kept growing the hair in my armpits? If it could somehow be seen as an art statement. "Behold! There goes she with the underarm hair wrapped around her bosoms, see how the hair clips brighten her ribs." I would not be concerned with deodorants, I would be too busy using my straighteners, trying not to burn my elbows. Or, if there was a party, I would make an up-do. Tie the hair around my shoulders, making me look like I was cocooning.
But the Epilady would not allow this. For ages, I've been trying to decide which brand of this thinly veiled torture instrument I would buy. They cost a lot, you know. Most of you know, because you are probably girls (successful girls, married to the black-haired British comedians of your choice) and the world of the Epilady is not new to you.
I guess I just thought standard shaving would do, for the rest of my life. But there comes a time in every woman's life when she is just sick of using razor blades (and this is not when she is listening to Cradle of Filth. But then again, she probably doesn't do that in her 30's. Unless she is trying to turn goth to impress her black-haired.. NO! She would never! He's not a real goth anyway, thank goodness.) and wants some more permanent results. Thus, she turns to the Epilady. Dear Epilady (is there an Epilord? Or EpiEarl?) , make my legs smooth. I am tired of cutting my fingers on them everytime I pull up my pants.
So, as in all important crossroads in life, my little sister went before me and bought an Epilady. I couldn't wait to hear her story, her I Love the Epilady Story. All she said was that it hurt like hell and that its horrible noise made her put it away immediately. There is no happy ending to this story. There is no happy ending to life.
