Suffering for beauty

Kat hates beards. Turns out she hates more than that – she hates my neck hair, too. So every so often, when she bleaches and dyes the back of my hair blue (like this morning), she insists that other hairs are removed. By force. By wax.

This shit hurts. Ladies, I know you know all about it, but this shit hurts. The back of the neck is for gentle kisses, not flesh-ripping adhesives. Besides, who the hell looks at the hair underneath my hair?

It’s worse when Kat says, “You know, your eyebrows are so bushy…” and pulls out more of these little hand-warmed squares of wax. She says it makes me attractive. I say it makes me not only look like a girl but yelp like one.

As usual, tequila heals all wounds.

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