Hair removed by sausages
This is a true story, I swear
After reading about how men hate shaving and different things to do with hair and hair removal, I thought it might be an idea to share my story of what happened to me. If you are squeamish or frighten easily, then read no further. What happened to me, I wouldn't want to wish on my worst enemy. The details of wish will appear below, and might cause many to have sleepless nights as they subconsciously relive my pain and humiliation. Okay, it wasn't painful, just very humiliating.
This story does not take place in a beauty salon, or any other establishment you usually connect with hair removal. This story, this very real story, took place in my kitchen. Yes you are amazed I know. No, my ex-husband did not pluck my eyebrows using the tongs. What happened, was far, far worse.
As some of you might be aware, I have a penchant for making home-made sausages. I make many different varieties, my favourite of which is Boerewors, a traditional South African sausage with a strong underlying taste of roasted coriander. But I digress. On this fine day, I was cooking some shop-bought Boerewors under the grill. You put the grill on high, and the sausages close to the grill and turn them when they start to get brown. You never, never prick a sausage like I have seem some dimwits do at barbecues. Only right royal pricks do that. That releases the fat and causes you to end up having a very dry sausage instead of a juicy one. Dry sausages look like dried dog turds and probably taste just as bad. The sausage has to be cooked on the outside, but retain the meat juices. You know a sausage is good when the juice dribbles down your chin.
On this warm summer's evening, I was bending down with my butt in the air, the oven door open, and carefully using a fork to turn over the sausages. My ex-husband stealthily crept up behind me, and lifted up my skirt and pinched me on my bum. This caused a chain of reactions which was more frightening that the Butterfly Effect. I'm not sure if it was the shock of not being alone in the kitchen, or my skirt being lifted up or somebody pinching me on the bum, but I accidentally stabbed a sausage that I was carefully rolling over with the fork, releasing a veritable geyser of fatty juices which flew upwards at a rate of knots and hit the grill. The heat from the grill immediately ignited and sent a huge whoosh of flames out the oven door, as hot air rises.
My face was in the direct path of the flames. Luckily, my face did not get burnt and all I got from the experience with regards my face was a very ruddy complexion, as if I had been sunbathing without suncream for 16 hours solid. However, my lovely Cindy Crawford/Margot Hemingway bushy eyebrows singed completely and frizzled to a foul-smelling mass above my eyes. My eyelashes suffered a similar fate, as did the hair on the top of my head. The acrid smell of burning hair permeated from the walls and floorboards.
My ex-husband did not apologise for creeping up behind me, lifting my skirt, pinching my bum and unleashing this full chain of disaterous events. With due respect, I think he might have had the original intention to give me a hug and say sorry, as he did take a step towards me with his arms open. However, as I turned around with a menacing snarl on my face, still bent over double with a crook in my back, he took one look at me and burst into hysterical laughter. I quickly forgot my anger as humiliation rose to the fore and I ran screaming into the bathroom and locked the door. looking at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but notice that the top of my previously straight hair was all frizzy. My eyebrows were frizzy and my eyelashes dropped off as i rubbed my eyes.
I did look a sight, but was too upset and humiliated to laugh. I decided to try and brush the frizz out of my hair. However, anybody with frizz caused by a burn will know, that once exposed to heat, hair becomes very fragile. Two strokes of the brush and my frizzed hair dropped into the wash basin. I now had a reverse mohawk. Rubbing my eyebrows caused most of the hairs on them to join my mohawk in the wash basin. Without eyebrows, I closely resembled an alien from one of those Star wars movies.
Can you wonder why I got divorced. I did forgive him over time. When my hair grew back. Moral of the story is, don't get too close to a flame and don't let your partner get frisky when cooking.
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