Girls Gone Weird

Speaking of strange behavior...

Last week I went camping on Orcas Island.  I like camping for many reasons, one of which is that I have the opportunity to be slovenly and unhygienic, and it's totally socially acceptable...at least in my mind.  Not all women believe this, however, which I discovered when I entered the campsite bathroom on my first morning.  Here is what awaited me:


a.  The bathroom was packed with women.  PACKED.  And the women weren't there only to relieve themselves, which was why I was there.  They were there to engage in elaborate beautifying rituals involving dozens of products neatly arranged in gigantic, brightly-colored, plastic receptacles.  All of the women (except for me) had these handy crates-o'-product and were meticulously utilizing each and every substance and device found in said crate in order to maintain the same standards of beauty expected of them in their non-camping lives.


b. Two women were blow drying their hair.  This means not only that they'd taken showers (another thing I enjoy not doing while camping), but also that they'd brought blow dryers on their camping trips, because they care that much about how their hair looks...when they're camping.


c. While I was standing at the sink washing my hands, I saw something strange out of the corner of my eye.  When I looked over, I noticed that the woman next to me was having her face attacked by one of these:

Looks like some sort of speculum, but apparently it's for your face

I stared at her for awhile before it sank in that this woman was curling her eyelashes.  Curling.  Her.  Fucking.  Eyelashes.  In a campsite bathroom.


Okay.


This experience reminded me of something I saw several years ago while camping on the Colorado River.  One morning about three days into the camping trip, I was wandering down the beach on which we'd camped the previous night and noticed two of my fellow campers sitting on some large rocks by the river.  Their legs were bleeding profusely.  At first I thought they'd slipped and fallen on the rocks while trying to get out of the river.  However, upon closer inspection I noticed that their injuries were self-inflicted, because both women were shaving their legs.  Yes, indeed.  In the Colorado River.


Now even though this occurred in July and the air temperature was in the 90s, the water temperature was in the 50s or 60s, which meant that these women were shaving severely goose-fleshed skin with freezing cold razors.  The results were horrifying.

What a beautiful scene!  I think I'll remove a layer of skin to celebrate it.

However, despite the blood flow, both women continued methodically dragging their razors up strips of skin, immediately transforming their flesh from white to red with each swipe, until they'd finished the job.  They weren't crying, screaming, or even wincing.  They simply shredded their legs together with placid acceptance, as calmly as if they were doing something totally painless and normal like brushing their teeth.  I suppose, in their world, torn-up, scabby legs are preferable to stubbly ones.  And that, my friends, is a world I never hope to visit, much less inhabit.


My dearest female companions, please hear me.  The next time you go "back to nature," consider leaving the plastic beauty boxes and razor blades behind.  Give yourself permission to be purely ferocious outdoorswomen, like this:

This is how I like to imagine myself when I'm camping

And if any of your fellow campers question why your eyelashes aren't curled, your legs aren't shaved, or your hair isn't perfectly coifed, feel free to reply disdainfully, "Um...hello?  Because I'm fucking camping."  Then go take a shit in the woods and tell them all about it.