This being the season for bare skin and, according to Hollywood, for tanned, lifted, microdermabrased, hairless skin, I thought it clever of me to save some bucks and skip the salon to get buff in the comfort of my own bathroom.

“But you don’t have any noticeable upper lip hair!” my husband repeated one fateful Friday evening, having grown exasperated at the door of the loo as I peered into the mirror.

“Ah, to you it may not be noticeable, but I know it’s there!” Not really knowing how to respond to this “female logic,” he went to go get a beer as I opened a box of Sally Hansen’s “Crème with Vitamin E.” It came with instructions, which I scanned briefly, and a separate bottle of something called “after-treatment lotion”—my first warning. Sally promised “fast, long-lasting results” with a “great vanilla scent.” Hooey. It was the longest eight minutes of my life. The hair removal cream smelled downright evil and, after 30 seconds residing on my upper lip, felt as though it might actually be smoking. I mean, it burned. I stoically checked my watch through watering eyes, waiting until the last seconds ticked down to wipe the stuff off. Some fine hairs came off on the cotton ball, but man, it hurt. My lip felt really funny—prickly, even—when I ran my finger gingerly against the grain. At this point I hadn’t looked into the mirror.

Just then husband wandered back to check in. “God, honey, what did you do?” he cried, and a glance in the mirror revealed an angry trail of red dots under my nose and blisters already forming along the corners of my mouth.

“Ack!”

“Well, did you test it first?”

“Well, no!”

“Did you even read the directions?”

“Well, no!”

“Then it must be an allergic reaction.”

“Gah! It’s not! This is horrible!”

Teeth were gnashed and hair rent, and the “moisturizing collagen after care” treatment was hastily applied. It was to no avail; that also stung like all get-out, and the lip remained red and blistered. I stayed indoors the rest of the weekend, furiously re-reading the tiny CAUTION label on the back of the instructions: “Patch Test First. If stinging or burning sensation occurs, apply a cold compress and seek professional assistance.” Dermatologist and salon tested? What professionals did they expect me to seek?

“I think it’s looking better,” my husband said tentatively on Sunday night, as we peered at my ravaged face for what felt like the thousandth time. “I told you shouldn’t have done it.”

Pros: Provides illuminating, first-hand insights into the fallacies of cosmetics advertising.

Cons: Men really do have it easier.

Ms. Face is defiantly recuperating in Rio de Janeiro, where you can show lots of skin no matter what it looks like. Send hair-raising tales of epidermal woe to: webmaster@artvoice.com.