July 16, 2018
Issue 7 2018
Lit Fam or Shit Scam?


We are gathered here today to mourn the passing of my dignity. If I’m being honest, finding new uncomfortable ways to waste my time and money on a biweekly basis for your reading pleasure has become quite taxing. But here I am again, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I trust everyone had a minto break stuffed full of exciting ventures, such as waking up at 4pm, getting dolled up just for chicken nuggets at Maccas, and ignoring your parent’s pleas to return home.

I’ve had quite a busy break myself. Extra work shifts, dangerous double dates, and a deadly encounter with a toddler high on Oreo cookies. I live on the edge. Speaking of edges, let me just change the subject to something entirely unrelated, since this review is about hair removal cream, which is surprisingly difficult to integrate into casual conversation.

So, hair removal cream.

Now I’m perfectly happy with the hair on my body, and on other people’s bodies, so it’s no concern to me where hair is or isn’t. But considering the last time I had been hairless was during the same time that the greatest trouble in my life was how to beat the Water Slums level in Jak 2, I thought it’d be a bold quest.

The product I chose was Veet Silk & Fresh Hair Removal Cream. It came in a lovely masculine pink coloured box, and on the side were more words than a dictionary editor’s scrabble party.

This stuff is suitable for the arms, legs, underarms, and bikini line.

It is not suitable for use on head, face, eyes, cats, nose, ears, anus, genitals, nipples, or small children.

Veet is a depilatory cream, and the way it works is they use alkaline chemicals to break down the keratin proteins of the hair. This thins and dissolves the base of the hair to the point where it can easily be pulled free. This particular cream also boasts ‘fragrance technology’ that prevents ‘lingering malodour.’

It recommended to test patch 24 hours before use, but inspired by the manly pink packaging, I decided I was too tough for that and elected to whack it on instantly. I laid out a towel, stripped down, and set to work. It was fairly easy to apply. I covered my entire left leg from the knee down, then proceeded to do the same with my right. The instructions suggested leaving it on for five minutes, so by this point the left leg was ready to go. Holding my breath, I pressed the edge of the scraper into my skin with a trembling hand, and gently ran it down as if I were washing someone’s windscreen without their permission. But unlike window washing, the payload was incredible. It went. It just went. No pain, no fuss, the hair just simply came off my leg and plopped onto the towel, leaving the whitest patch of skin I had ever had the misfortune of witnessing. This was the new equivalent of pimple popping or nail biting. It was addictive. In a frenzy I continued to paste and scrape, higher and higher until I started running out of cream at about mid-thigh.

Now it was time to tame that troublesome bikini line. On it went, as far as I dared to the unholy regions, and just for fun I dabbed some on the snail trail. Again, like magic it wiped clean off, and it was over, as quick as it had begun.

I took a long glance at myself in the mirror and prayed nobody would ever have to endure having to see this. Smooth skin that hadn’t seen the light in years dazzled me, halting abruptly at mid-thigh, resembling in a strange way, a pair of stockings. As for further up, I think you’ve suffered enough gory details for one sitting, so let's just say it was tidy. I spent the next ten minutes running my hands along my legs with pure unbridled awe.

Cleaning up sucked. The amount of gloppy hair all over the towel convinced me to throw it out, instead of attempting to put it through the wash, where it inevitably would have clogged the machine like a Fisher and Paykel cream pie.

Later that night I discovered that if this cream really did contain ‘fragrance technology,’ it was long overdue a system update. My room now reeked of an odour which could only be achieved by frying leather in a pan full of cat hair and Nicki Minaj perfume.

All this was mitigated by the fact that after climbing in bed I now understood what women meant when they mentioned ‘the sheets.’ There is nothing quite like sidling into fresh sheets with smooth legs. It’s the little things in life that make the long yards worth it.

A thought suddenly popped into my head. What exactly did this cream contain that was strong enough to practically disintegrate the hair off of my body? The instructions stated very clearly that it shouldn’t be left on for longer than 10 minutes, so exhibiting all of my genius, I wrestled a last small dollop out of the tube, proceeded to apply it to my left hand, and waited to see what would happen. While I waited, I googled the ingredients. I was given scary results like ‘corrosive,’ and ‘skin irritating,’ and ‘Error 404 - Not Found’. However, most of these ingredients are only dangerous in large amounts or when given prolonged contact to… skin…

Oh dear we are in trouble.

About an hour and a half in, my hand was tingling. This wasn’t so bad, considering it was my right hand and I had just leant on it funny. My left hand however, the one I had applied the cream to, had gone a slight masculine pink, and felt like a swarm of tiny needles pirouetting on the surface of my skin. It was bearable, but when I thought of my bikini line and the early grave I would have been subjected to had I ventured closer to the sacral chakra, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and then yawned because it wouldn’t have been that bad of an ordeal. I’ve eaten a fucking Carolina Reaper, nothing can harm me anymore.

Veet has revealed to me sights that didn’t need revealing, created a mess slimier than behind the scenes of Love Island, hasn’t decided whether it wants to melt your skin off or not, and wins the people’s choice award for ‘Best Absence of Said Fragrance Technology.’

Its one saving grace is that I can’t deny it works like witchcraft, and maybe it is, because the contact with sheets is magical.

I rate Veet 2/5 Butylphenyl Methylpropional compounds, therefore it’s a Shit Scam.

Next Issue - Wake Me Up Before You Go Go