No matter how we cloaked it, "Girls Day Out," "A Day of Respite at the Spa," or what have you, we always knew, my best friend and cousin Calla and I, that it all came down to one thing. Removing all that fuzzy, downy, in-our-way-on-our-way-to-beautiful hair from our bodies had become our prime objective.

To fully understand the impetus of our undertaking, you must first understand our family. Our huge Greek family is famous for three attributes: our warm, compassionate hearts, our sometime volatile tempers, and our hair. Or rather our hairiness for our problem is not that of the voluminous, silky-smooth, or well-managed variety.

I don't blame you if at first you don't believe me. Stick around for the amusing, informative facts. My Uncle Louis was affectionately nicknamed Malia as a child. Straight translation, you ask? Our hairy one! Oh, it gets better from hereon in. Whereas our Uncle Louis grew a profusion of body hair it was our aunts who would resemble that animal all of we the younger generation lived in terror of. No my friends not the Werewolf, but the Billy goat.

Our aunts seemed to grow a rapidly doubling amount of coarse, dark, unbecoming hair in two nerve screaming regions. You've guessed it, their upper lips and beneath their double chins. But alas, we the younger generation, fresh faced and soft-skinned, didn't get away hair free. In fact, in any Hollywood reality series of "Greek Werewolf Meets Billy the Goat," we two, Calla and I, would star magnificently. Can you say, "Hello, Oscar?"

Oh the joys of fuzzy, dark, dark hairs on otherwise beautifully sculpted arms. Oh the relief in knowing I have a twist of fate in my DNA to thank for pale blond arm hairs on those said arms. Something for which Calla would note I paid dearly for in the Billy goat hairs department. Please, no attempts at imagining it when I admit that maven, they-grow-back-thicker-hairs grow below my single chin. Did I mention too, the Cindy Crawford mole that sits enticingly on my left cheek – black facial hair protruding?

So you can fully understand and knowingly sympathize why we poured ourselves into our undertaking since we were old enough to care about fuzzy facial hair, foul obtrusive body hair, and everything in between. Between us, we have experienced enough, spend enough and learned so very much about the art and science of hair removal. Enough to fill tomes on the chronicles of raising hair. We discovered the secrets to eyebrows that don't glow and sting with heat for hours following plucking or waxing; to waxing legs smooth on a budget; to living through the dreaded Brazilian wax; and everything in between.