Irony is often incorrectly identified as such and I’m likely misusing the term myself when I point out that it seems wrong to find a long, prominent cheek hair (staying on top of sprouting chin hairs takes enough of my energy) on the same day you break down and decide to see what all the fuss is about bikini waxing now that you’re in your fourth decade of life. (And then read essays–so many personal essays on the subject–being a first-timer at 23 as if that’s unthinkable.) It’s not that I don’t get the appeal (isn’t the pendulum swinging back natural, though, along with granny panties [I still hold millennials responsible for thongs despite efforts to shift blame older] and wearing flats even if you’re a famous lady?) but I’m still not sure if I’m fully on board with paying some poor soul (and I know more than one woman who does this as part of their living) to rip out your pubic hair by the roots. The whole thing seems very first decade of the new millennium.