Even though society has made marginal progress in terms of gender equality, there remains that one, pesky, pervasive little facet of womanhood that is wholly and totally unfair, yet many of us feel inexplicably beholden to: hair removal.
While there are many women who feel perfectly comfortable with bucking the seemingly sexist trend of shaving. waxing and tweezing, some of us just can’t seem to break the habit — but, that doesn’t mean we can’t complain about it at every possible juncture.
Here are some jokes to remind all of us that shaving and waxing are outdated, ridiculous, weirdly satisfying and totally frustrating. Maybe we can all just grit our teeth and laugh through the razor burn?
The Smooth Operator
It was a sunny Saturday morning, and Emma was in her bathroom, ready to tackle the dreaded task of hair removal. She had an arsenal of tools laid out: a razor, waxing strips, tweezers, and even a tube of hair removal cream. With a determined sigh, she picked up the razor and began her routine.
As she worked, her mind wandered to the ridiculousness of it all. “Why do we do this to ourselves?” she mused. “It’s not like anyone really cares about a bit of stubble.” She imagined herself walking into work on Monday, proudly showing off her leg hair. The thought made her giggle.
Emma’s reverie was interrupted by a sharp pain. “Ow!” she yelped, looking down to see a small nick on her ankle. “Great, just what I needed.” She grabbed a piece of toilet paper to stop the bleeding and switched to the waxing strips.
She applied a strip to her leg, took a deep breath, and yanked. “AHHH!” she screamed, tears springing to her eyes. “Whoever invented this must have been a sadist.” She threw the used strip into the trash with more force than necessary.
Determined not to be defeated, Emma decided to try the hair removal cream. She carefully spread it over her legs and waited the required five minutes. When she wiped it off, she was pleased to see smooth skin. “Finally, something that works without torture,” she muttered.
Feeling victorious, Emma decided to treat herself to a cup of coffee. As she sat at the kitchen table, she couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the whole ordeal. “Maybe I should just embrace my natural state,” she thought.
The next week, Emma met up with her friends for brunch. As they chatted, the topic of hair removal came up. “I tried that new waxing kit,” said Sarah, wincing at the memory. “It was like ripping off my soul.”
“Tell me about it,” Emma chimed in. “I ended up with a war wound on my ankle and nearly screamed the house down.”
They all laughed, sharing their own horror stories. “Why do we even bother?” asked Lisa. “Men don’t go through this.”
“Exactly!” said Emma. “Maybe we should start a movement. Hairy and proud!”
Her friends cheered, raising their mimosas in agreement. Emma felt a sense of camaraderie and relief. She wasn’t alone in her struggles, and maybe, just maybe, they could all reconsider the whole damn idea of hair removal.
As they left the restaurant, Emma looked down at her legs. The smoothness wouldn’t last long, but she didn’t care. For now, she was content to let nature take its course. And if anyone had a problem with that, well, that was their issue, not hers.
