Hilarious guest post about the Clio PalmPerfect Pixie by my friend Emma Wrye.

I would like to pass along a personal PSA.

I have three kids and between school schedules and activities I feel productive if I get the 11,000 loads of laundry done every week. (And by “done” I mean washed, usually dried, and more often than not, gathered in clean piles on top of the washer, dryer, couch, or laundry basket or some combination thereof, but that’s another post for another day). I rarely take any time for myself other than glancing at FB or if the hubs is working late then it’s usually just a glass of wine and an episode of True Blood or two before passing out from exhaustion.

So I’ve been doing touch ups on my lady bits and keeping the bikini line de-furred as needed but haven’t done any major overhauls for quite some time. With the weather hitting 90°+ lately I’ve been feeling a little yeti-ish and decided I needed to trim the hedges back a bit more. I really hate the razor-in-the-shower routine but I’m not confident enough to bare my bits at a waxing salon and I really don’t want to spend $50 for a stranger to torture my vulva after my vagina already birthed a 8.5# baby with shoulder dystocia that caused a third degree perineal tear. It took me a year to recover from that so I didn’t want to risk PTSD in front of some poor innocent aesthetician. So I found a personal trimmer at Target today. It’s called a Clio PalmPerfect Pixie. It’s small. It’s pink and lavender. It works wet or dry. It has three settings for length. And it only cost $10. Perfect!

Not really.

After the kids finally went to sleep I decided to go give my new trimmer a test drive. I popped a AA battery in it earlier to see what it sounded like. That little sucker sounded more like a prop plane coming in for a crash landing than an electric razor but it looked like it would do the job nicely. Now, like I said, I haven’t done much more than edging for the last year or so. I mean, I was half afraid I would find a garden gnome hanging out in my bush during its trim. I knew it was a big undertaking so I decided to start dry over the trash can first and then do the rest of the clean up in the shower to avoid a potentially costly plumbing problem from Cousin Itt getting a haircut.

I told my husband where I was going and exactly what I was doing lest he thought the loud buzzing sound was something else altogether.

I positioned myself at the edge of the toilet, legs slightly spread, and trash can under the lip of the toilet. I looked down and quickly realized that I couldn’t see the area where I was supposed to be using a sharp object. My belly was in the way. It’s not a little poochie post partum tummy. Between my diastasis recti, 11 PM snacks, and my unwillingness to even walk down the block to pick up my oldest from school once the temps hit 85°, I have a full on six months pregnant look going. Trying to pull my belly flap out of the way and somehow stretch my skin in order to get that perfect 45-90 degree angle that the instructions said was necessary was going to be a tough one. However, I am still breastfeeding a three year old that fell off the bed while still attached to my nipple the other night and I didn’t even audibly yelp so I knew I could tackle this challenge!

I started with the 5mm guard. I ran it back and forth over the top of my bikini line. Nothing. I tried again. And again. I may have gotten three hairs bent over but I don’t think it actually cut through anything. Okay, over to the 3mm guard. I tried again. Still nothing. It was like trying to cut through a cornfield with a Barbie comb. Off with the trimming guard and straight to the razor! I carefully pulled my skin taut with one hand while using my forearm to pin back my gut and gently pulled the razor across my skin.

OHMIGOD.

It felt like Lou Ferrigno had swirled my pubic hair onto a fork like a big bite of spaghetti and then RIPPED it out. Tears instantly sprang to my eyes and I hissed like a snake. “I must be doing this wrong” I thought while I read the directions for the third time. 45° angle? Check. Light pressure? Check. Gently pull across and end with a 90° perpendicular angle? Check. Then why did this feel like someone was trying to run my vulva through a garbage disposal?!? I tried it again and the pain was just as bad, if not worse. I looked to see if I had mistakenly set it to “Grate” but there was only an On/Off button.

I tried gamely for a few more minutes before gasping for breath and setting the torture device aside. I eyed the Clio with an intense hatred but thought it might work better IN the shower. I ran my regular razor through the worst part of the thicket to at least give the electric trimmer an easier canvas to work with. I waded through the hairy tile, which now looked like the tent floor after a dog show, and hopped in the shower with Miss Clio and my regular razor as backup. The directions didn’t say whether I should use soap when shaving in the shower so I tried without it first. Wet pubic hair being ripped out by the roots does not hurt any less than dry pubic hair being ripped out by the roots, by the way. I liberally squirted soap on my crotch and tried gamely again although by now the redness of my skin was clashing with the supposedly soothing pink and lavender colors of the razor.

After a few more minutes of intense pain and suffering I gave up. I used my trusty Mach 3 men’s razor which I have been using faithfully for several years now to finish the hack job that Clio started. When I was done I limped out of the shower, gingerly put some underwear on over my abused girl parts that looked like it had been attacked by fire ants and then a pack of groundhogs, and got the broom and dustpan to clean up the evidence of my hirsute genes.

Please avoid this razor.