So, what’s a little hair between friends? Take a short-course in weaving and it could be the very fabric holding your friendship together.
A couple of weeks ago I was invited to an 80s film-themed party. Naturally, I decided to go as Tom Cruise in Risky Business. I considered Clubber Lang, Apollo Creed, Tango, or possibly Cash; but nothing else offered quite the maniacal-grinning-sexually-ambiguous-wedge-trainered pull of the Cruisemeister.
The only small problem is that the outfit in question is rather lacking in the old trouser department (I make absolutely no reference to Cruise, or any Cruise-related appendage of course – we’re talking pants here). Not a problem for your average Josephine, judging by this years’ Brits. From Florence’s leotard to Lily’s knickers to Gaga’s ice skating take on Miss Haversham I’ve seen more naked thighs in 2010 than your average gynaecologist.
No, the reason I approached trouserlessness with such trepidation is that, if I’m honest, I haven’t removed a single hair from either leg since 2009. Call it love, call it feminism, call it cutting down on central heating; this year depilation has been on my to do list some way below polishing the light bulbs.
The simple fact of the matter is that shaving, waxing and depilating in all its manifold forms is time-consuming, expensive and often more painful than a pincer crab to the scrotum. So, while the temperature remained below freezing, my leg hair remained above board.
Until the Risky Business costume, that is. Unfortunately, to pull that off, I had to pull the hairs out. Otherwise everyone would have just assumed I’d come as Teenwolf.
Nell Frizzell
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