VINE VOICEon 21 September 2013
The Loved One has a small trove of beauty products, so I hoped I did the right thing by gifting her this one. Now, gentlemen, offering your sweetheart a beauty product is a risky proposition. Firstly, there's the implied rebuke: sweetheart, you ain't beautiful enough. Epilators definitely fall into this category. "Are you saying I've got hairy legs? OMG! OMG! I've got hairy legs, haven't I?" Bad times, and a ruined romantic tryst. Plus, you end up coming across as a fully paid-up member of The Patriarchy, not the liberal, gentle, poetic soul that you really are.
Secondly, there's the problem that, as a gentleman, you are probably deeply ignorant about what these gadgets, gewgaws, ointments and unguents actually do. Just what exactly is an epilator anyway? It turns out they are devices invented by misogynists to facilitate women inflicting great pain on themselves in the pursuit of an unattainable ideal of beauty revolving around male pleasure. Or so Germaine Greer tells me. So, it's like buying your sweetie a thumbscrew and encouraging her to use it.
All things considered, getting her the epilator was probably a Bad Idea and male readers of this review are probably *facepalm*-ing and crying "Don't do it, you mad impetuous fool!" So, imagine my surprise when this turned out to be A Good Idea and the Loved One pronounced herself delighted with the gift and took it as a sign of my attentiveness, consideration, empathy, etc etc. But why? Why?
Apparently epilators work by using tiny rotating knives, reminiscent of a Polly Pocket abattoir, to wrench offending hairs from the Loved One's legs and other Intimate Places. Ghastly notion, you'll agree, but I've been socially conditioned to find smooth legs attractive (doubtless because it infantilises women, but heigh-ho, what can I do about that?) so some sort of epilation must take place and these horrid knives are, I'm told, the nuclear option.
The epilator does its grisly work with, I'm told, surprisingly little pain. Moreover, the shaver function contributes with a bit of, ahem, tidying up and the Loved One reports no rash or need for soothing creams afterwards. And three weeks later, the Loved One's legs retain the silky smoothness for which she is so rightly adored.
It's a victory for the gentlemen: a delighted lady with a delightful gift and sheer smooth legs and a tidy bikini line, with minimal pain and irritation. Smiles and gratitude are bestowed upon Your Correspondent, who continues himself to be as cheerfully hirsute as a badger. But then, that's Patriarchy for you.