Epilators are not the end of feminism

I am sorry to burst your feminist bubble, but the winter state of my legs was not a stand on society and gender ideals. My epilator broke. Here's a brief eulogy I would like to dedicate to my epilator as it lays, barely buzzing and light flickering, on my bathroom floor.

epilators feminism and sorority

I awkwardly sit before your powerless body today, Silk Epil, you were the very essence of these legs, the lasting beacon of modern society beauty standards, the soul of many fashion choices. For all Italian girls you were was a symbol of merciless precision. A protector of the rights to wear dresses in summer, and shorts during p.e.. Only the strength of German manufacture and the length of my leg hairs, has afforded me the courage to go ahead and purchase a new one.

I had my epilator for fifteen years. Fifteen! I got it at the end of my first year of high school, right when summer was approaching and my social life was blooming. And, as an Italian girl, I can guarantee that was a much needed investment.

My epilator's technology was so 2000s that I had to keep it plugged to a power outlet for it to work, and it was heavier than a Nokia phone.

My epilator was so original that it didn't even have a number: it was called Silk Epil. Fullstop. After it broke, I checked online and, much to my shock, they are up to Silk Epil 9!

My epilator was so reliable that when it stopped working, it did so while still trying to grab at my hairs with the little buzz of life it had left. Hence the half feminist, half society-approved legs.

My epilator was so German in manufacture and spirit that if it had a bunker it would have waited for the allies still alive.

At this point I could just drop the mouse and walk off-line.

But I won't, because the moral of the story is that, after a lengthy research, I eventually purchased a new epilator, and I felt such a responsible young woman doing so. I wanted to tell my news to every girl I knew!

So much adulting.

Then, it occurred to me, some of my girl friends have kids, one is buffering, a few are building their house, moving out on their own, getting married, working abroad...

And I am bragging about a new epilator.

Instead, I selected a friend to represent all women, and sent her the following:

I wanted to share the news of my most recent adult purchase (a brand new epilator), then I remembered you just built and moved into your home and will get married soon. I feel like no one cares about small achievements anymore, so, if you ever feel like bragging about new cushions that match the rug, the IKEA table you put together, and so on, feel absolutely free to do so. I deeply understand how you feel right now and you have my full moral support! Because epilating doesn't kill feminism nor sisterhood.

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