His Pain, Our Pleasure

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His Pain, Our Pleasure

Written by Angela Latoof Cagle

Sunday, 24 January 2010 22:01

I shouldn't, but I am. I'm about to laugh my back-side off at my brother-in-law's expense. He just makes it so easy. Too easy. How easy? Well, it involves his forearm hair and an 'Epiladee'.

Yep. Talk about exactly what you'd expect, but I still have to tell you the sequence anyway.

Here's the setting: Mark comes home from work, sits down at the kitchen table next to me while Cee is cooking.

"Hey Cee, what's this?"   'This' being an Epiladee sitting on the table.
"Oh," says Cee.    "That's an Epiladee."
"What's it for?"
"It's for hair removal,"   Cee says.

"How does it wooooooooooorrrrrrrrrk? "STOP IT!!!! STOP IT!!! TURN IT OFF!!!!! HELP, I'M BLEEDING, I'M BLEEDING!!!!! HELP ME. CECELIA, GET UP OFF OF THE FLOOR. QUIT LAUGHING AND DAMMIT HELP ME. STOP LAUGHING. GET UP OFF OF THE FLOOR AND TURN IT OFF, TURN IT OFF!!!!! CRAWL IF YOU HAVE TO. ANGIE, HELP ME. QUIT LAUGHING AND HELP ME!!

Honestly, this went on for over a minute. We watched that battery-operated, hand-held machine latch, suck, yank, and streak up his forearm while ripping out hair as it made its way in a steady pace to his upper arm, which was nice and hairy too.

I was laughing so hard I couldn't breath. And I couldn't help. And neither could Cee. Why his pain brought us so much pleasure, we'll never know, but we do know this--it did. I hadn't laughed that hard in years, and I don't think I laughed that hard since. Hm-mm. Maybe it's time for a new 'toy' to put on the table.

Anyway, I didn't know hair follicles had that much blood or that a hand-held, battery operated machine could be so powerful (or funny). And there sure was a lot of skin attached.

And the look of pure horror on Mark's face was priceless. I'm still not sure if his horror were due to his injuries, or at our laughing so hard we couldn't help him, or both. But if you were to ask me, I'd say the epiladee worked--perfectly, and is worth every penny. Ask Mark.