No Pain, No Gain (or, First World Problems)

Awhile ago I bought a groupon for laser hair removal, six sessions worth. Yesterday was session one.

This is my Session One story.

First of all, when you're in a waiting room of an establishment that does cosmetic surgery, the natural thing to do is figure out why everyone else in the waiting room is there. Right?... No, that's just me? I'm a horrible person sometimes. In my defense, I assumed everyone else there had the laser hair groupon, too.

Except that one lady whose face didn't move. Botox for sure.

Anyway. I would like to share something with you, reader. It's probably too personal, but here it is: I've been getting not only my bikini area waxed, but also my legs waxed, for 8 years (there is some sort of hidden Italian gene in my family). I know pain. I can handle pain. I could definitely handle a little laser on my bikini line, that has to be better than hot wax being ripped off your skin over and over.

They tell you laser hair removal is easy. Sort of feels like someone popping a rubber band on your skin. And they're exactly right.

IF THE RUBBER BAND IS 1000 DEGREES AND BURNS LIKE THE SUN.

The worst part is that they have to go over the area three times in one session. It goes something like this:

Round 1- HOLY! What the! Why!

[break] Deep breathes. I can do this.

Round 2- You're saying names of saints you didn't even know existed. Trying to remember to breathe.

[break] I can't do this again. The LEAST a person could do is offer a lady a stiff drink before torturing her. If ever I've wanted a shot of tequila, that time is now. Stop this train- You're now doing the type of breathing women do while in labor.

Round 3- This is Eve's fault. She ate the apple and now I have to get hair removed from my body by means of death lasers. A million bucks says these lasers are giving me cancer. Or killing all of my eggs... But really that part's okay because if childbirth is worse than this...

And then it's over and the nice lady in the hot pink scrubs smiles her face-lifted smile at you.

It's worth it. I've been promised it's worth it. But I feel obligated to tell you what to expect, just in case you find yourself sitting in a waiting room on a plush armchair that says "Botox saved my marriage", waiting for your name to be called so that you can look at lipo "before and after" pictures while hair is burned unnaturally from your body.

I get to do this once a month for five more months. So, I have that to look forward to.