I am of the firm belief that, as a beauty editor [1], no body part is too sacred for experimentation [2]. Thou must be willing to lose the shoes to take the latest foot peel [3] for a spin, or drop trou to investigate the skin-softening effects of a butt mask [4]. That's just responsible journalism.
Still, the propensity to treat my legs [5] to anything beyond a nice shave [6] once a month — resting on the hypothetical possibility that someone ends up in my bed one night — simply slipped my mind. Then Nair [7] dropped a line of leg masks that are part-depilatory, part-skincare ingredients [8], and I suddenly felt bad for my negligence. Obviously your stems could use some TLC [9], too, even if you've shielded them from the world via pants all season.
I vowed to try the formula immediately. Hell, I've already masked every other [10] inch of my body (well, minus my armpits, but there's always time) so I figured, how hard could it be? After a few glasses of Merlot, I was ready to slather it up. What happened next was . . . maybe a little outside of my job description.