To say that I’m obsessed with hair removal is an understatement. Just ask my mum. At the age of 6, I decided to cut off my sister’s long, luxurious hair…with plastic scissors. At the sweet and innocent age of 8, I shaved all of the hair off my legs. My mum reacted by calling our family doctor to ask if there was something mentally wrong with me. I was sternly instructed never to shave my legs again.

Being the strong-willed person that I am, I decided to face my mother’s wrath one more time, at age 13. I shaved my legs again and hid the many cuts and bumps I incurred under thick, knee-high socks—not the most comfortable wardrobe choice in the middle of summer. Mothers know everything—and believe me, she knew what I was hiding! I vividly remember my mother yelling, “What is wrong with you? The next thing we know, you’ll be shaving your private parts!” I also clearly remember thinking, “Why on Earth would anybody want to take the hair off of their private parts?”

Well, I figured out why, when at 18, I had an accident with a bottle of Immac (a UK hair removal cream). Before a trip to the Costa del Sol, I wanted to get my bikini line in shape.  Sitting on the edge of the tub, I applied two large dollops to the sides of my bikini line.  Listen, you can’t tell an anal-retentive, hyperactive Virgo to sit completely still for 15 minutes, so I got up and walked about a bit. Perhaps I threw in a jumping jack or two for good measure, vacuumed a couple of rugs and washed the dishes. When I rinsed off the cream I had a jolly big shock…in a rather good way. My horrendous, pre-super-summer-holiday bikini line had vanished and my new, svelte, sophisticated (and shaped like Italy) landing strip had arrived! Bonjourno!

Since those early days of trial and major error, I’ve graduated to removing hair with a soft and deliciously fantastic wax from Italy. (Italians throw a lot of passion into everything they make—even wax.) God bless all of my willing girlfriends, who in the early days endured those painful bikini wax experiments I inflicted on them. And God bless the late and great Nance Mitchell of Beverly Hills for making me quit my 9 to 5 and get out there and do this thing wholeheartedly! Today, with more than a dozen years of hair removal under my belt (sorry, I couldn’t resist), I truly love my career and hope all of the trusting girls who come to visit me love the results just as much.

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