Last year the ad popped up on my browser “Amazon Cyber Monday Deals.” Innocent enough, even though it clearly was not tailored to me: “depilatory cream formulated for black men.” .” I am a woman with a blindingly pale complexion and I probably would have let the deal pass had two of my sisters not been talking about the fine hair on their upper lips.
I read some great product reviews and thought, “I’ll zap any of THAT.” I added the advertised product to my cart, checked out, and promptly forgot about my purchase.
It arrived, just a day later, cool and efficient-looking in its gold and white tube. “Works in four minutes!” it announced, “No razor bumps.”
I glanced at the instructions and squeezed some of the cream out and spread it under my nose.
“Smoothest of my four sisters.” I thought smugly, and spread the cream out over my cheeks and then over my chin. It tingled a bit, but any depilatory cream worth its salt tingles.
My friend from Tampa called. We chatted and my face went from tingling to downright hot.
“I better go…. I have this depilatory cream on my face…it’s getting hot.”
“When did you put it on? We’ve been talking for a while.”
“About fifteen minutes ago.”
“Ooooh, get that stuff off – bye!”
Well I did. I wiped it off with a cool cloth and then splashed cool water on my face. It looked like I had a red beard and it was starting to swell just a little bit.
Then the fiery itch began.
“Baking soda.” I thought. “Baking soda is good for irritations.” I made a paste of cold water and baking soda and plastered it on. That burning was like a hand on a hot plate. I howled inwardly and my eyes teared up as I rinsed the paste off.
My skin had hardened into four, connected, red scales: one on each cheek, one on the chin, and one sliver of a scale under my nose.
What to do? My friend called back, “Hello? Hello? Are you okay? I can’t hear you?”
I tried to croak “Hello”, cracks formed in the crimson scales but my mouth couldn’t open. I had to text my shame.
“Worst $4.99 I ever spent. Can’t talk. Can’t leave house. Can hardly focus on keyboard. Eyes tearing up from residual fumes on my face….and no, I won’t send you a selfie.”
I read some great product reviews and thought, “I’ll zap any of THAT.” I added the advertised product to my cart, checked out, and promptly forgot about my purchase.
It arrived, just a day later, cool and efficient-looking in its gold and white tube. “Works in four minutes!” it announced, “No razor bumps.”
I glanced at the instructions and squeezed some of the cream out and spread it under my nose.
“Smoothest of my four sisters.” I thought smugly, and spread the cream out over my cheeks and then over my chin. It tingled a bit, but any depilatory cream worth its salt tingles.
My friend from Tampa called. We chatted and my face went from tingling to downright hot.
“I better go…. I have this depilatory cream on my face…it’s getting hot.”
“When did you put it on? We’ve been talking for a while.”
“About fifteen minutes ago.”
“Ooooh, get that stuff off – bye!”
Well I did. I wiped it off with a cool cloth and then splashed cool water on my face. It looked like I had a red beard and it was starting to swell just a little bit.
Then the fiery itch began.
“Baking soda.” I thought. “Baking soda is good for irritations.” I made a paste of cold water and baking soda and plastered it on. That burning was like a hand on a hot plate. I howled inwardly and my eyes teared up as I rinsed the paste off.
My skin had hardened into four, connected, red scales: one on each cheek, one on the chin, and one sliver of a scale under my nose.
What to do? My friend called back, “Hello? Hello? Are you okay? I can’t hear you?”
I tried to croak “Hello”, cracks formed in the crimson scales but my mouth couldn’t open. I had to text my shame.
“Worst $4.99 I ever spent. Can’t talk. Can’t leave house. Can hardly focus on keyboard. Eyes tearing up from residual fumes on my face….and no, I won’t send you a selfie.”
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