We're living in an enlightened age, right?

I hate to shave. Hate, hate, hate. I do it as least often as I can get away with.

But, after receiving a lot of new makeup, I decided to further my femininity. Hey, I'm 35 now. I'm feeling motherhood in a big way, now.

I do not like hair removal lotions. Why? They stink. Then, I realized I hadn't really tried any in 15 years; surely, the technology existed to make that stuff smell better.

Boy, was I wrong.

Now, you have to understand, I do not have a bathroom. I have bathrooms, one door with a toilet, one door with a sink, and one door with a tub. This is the direct result of the bathroomS once being an outhouse (the main part of the house was built in 1820) that they just attached to the house. Of course, I was in the room with the tub. I realized, after completing one leg, the close confines of the room made it impossible to continue. Gasping for air, I flung open the door, and the cat ran in, sniffed the white stuff on my leg and ran from the acrid scent of ammonia. Almost as bad as with an onion, my eyes watered.

The open door made the situation tolerable and I finished the other leg, then waited the dreaded 8 minutes as instructed. This particular brand comes with a bladeless razor. Actually, I found that quite effective as I strived to remove the yuck from my legs. At a rapid clip, I slid the razor thing from hip to ankle, hurrying so fast as to get out of the bathroom, noting that the cat still wandered around outside, mewing in concern.

Did you know that the smell intensifies in water? It wasn't hot; steam played no role. On power setting, I rinsed and then took a rag and wiped. I wanted no scent remaining on me. It smelled like generic, bobo brand Windex sprayed over lilacs!

Finally, I escaped and informed my husband (caustically and gleefully) of his turn in the shower. One gasp from him confirmed it. He might have realized what we women do to make ourselves presentable! The brutal air still clung to everything. I gathered all discarded clothing and a couple towels and threw the clothes in the washer, allowing the towels to sit next to the washing machine for their turn, stewing and growing in the strength of putridness.

Okay, maybe not that far, but the kids got up later and went to the laundry room and commented on the scent. They thought the cat, who never does this, extended the bounds of his litter box and fretted.

I showed them the bottle of hair remover, and explained they are not to touch it. Although it was quite an ordeal, I do like the effects. I think I shall wait until everyone (human) is gone, and wait for the stuff to work in a well-ventilated area. Please, please, please. How far must we go into the 21st Century without a hair removal product that does not weaken the strongest?

Okay, rant over. I might pull this post because it's stupid, but it's my rage against the machine, so to speak. "Beauty" care is not very much worth the effort sometimes.