Lord, but it’s been a good long time since I regaled you with a story about my lady-bits. I mean, lately it’s been all I HAVE ANGST and MY KIDS HAVE ISSUES and IT TOOK 37 DAYS TO BUILD THIS STUPID FENCE, and—surprisingly!—this has left precious little time for in-depth discussions of the various ways in which I sometimes end up naked in front of strangers.
Clearly my priorities are WAY out of whack.
Needless to say, I live to serve you, my loyal audience. And given how long it’s been and the fact that I wasn’t due for a gynecological check-up, I went ahead and did the next best thing: I purchased a certificate for discount laser hair removal off of the Internet. Because what could possibly go wrong there? Surely a spa willing to zap people with lasers is still perfectly fine even if they’re selling sessions for 90% off.
I guess this would be a funnier story if it turned out that it was, like, some dude with a power washer attached to a laser pointer in the back room of a bar, but sadly I have to tell you that I researched the facility before shelling out for the certificate, and they’re actually a real place, licensed, good reviews, etc. And I sat through the taunting from some of my friends about my dubious decision-making skills in having picked this particular place based on price. “Would you have bought a Groupon for your hysterectomy?” one of them asked me, full of skepticism.
“If I didn’t have health insurance? Probably.” (Also, I really don’t feel like a little bit of hair removal is akin to having organs extracted, even if it does involve lasers.)
ANYWAY. I have mentioned before that I’ve had laser hair removal in the past, but that I kind of ran out of money and time and therefore still have to, erm, deal with a hair Situation when it comes to wearing a bathing suit. Granted, I am no longer at Threat Level Yeti, but still. As much as I enjoyed (?) my forays into waxing at home, I still dream of a day when hair simply doesn’t grow where it’s unwelcome. Particularly in unwelcome areas which are delicate and sensitive.
This morning I headed to the salon, was delighted to discover it was clean and pretty and full of swoopy salon background music and ambient lighting and weird little sculptures. (You know it’s going to be a luxurious experience when there are, say, hunks of marble in funny shapes sitting by the FEEL YOUNGER AND STRONGER AND FURTHER FROM DEATH type pamphlets urging you to peel and tone and zap everything that bothers you.) I filled out my paperwork and was then ushered into an exam room to chat with the Laser Lady.
Because I’ve had laser work done before, we just went over things quickly, and I did think to ask if the last decade has changed things much. She said the basic technology was the same, but probably with some more refinements, why did I ask? I mentioned that the sessions I’d had before were pretty painful. She assured me that this would hurt very little. “We hook it into another machine that blasts your skin with cold air at the same time, and that minimizes the pain,” she said. Huh. Fancy!
She shepherded me into a second room where she asked me to remove my skirt and wear this towel-wrap they had provided for me. “You can leave your panties on,” she said, “unless… are they black?”
This seemed a little weird to me. First of all, I’d known her 10 minutes, and even though she was going to be, to put it plainly, working on my crotch in fairly short order, I’d had no idea we’d be discussing my lingerie. Fortunately, I have almost no shame, so I said, “Actually, they ARE black.” (Hey, I have dark hair, and a stranger was going to be all up between my legs; black panties seemed like the closest thing to modesty I was going to get to have today.) “We’ve just met and already you don’t like my underwear?” I added.
She laughed. “It’s just that the laser goes for dark. If you’re wearing black panties you run the risk of the laser kind of jumping to the fabric.” A mental image of my panties catching fire during this little adventure darted, unbidden, through my head. “You can either just go without or we have these disposable paper panties you can wear.”
I opted for the disposables, which came in a little clear pouch like a shower cap. Laser Lady left me to disrobe, and I opened up the panties. Imagine, if you will, a strip of hospital paper (like the kind they use for those caps to cover up your hair before you go into surgery) about three inches wide, strung on an elastic string. Sexxxxxxxy! I put it on and adjusted it as best I could. The string ended up about two inches above my belly button.
Laser Lady came back and started fiddling with the equipment, which went from “low hum” to “757 about to take off” while she worked. After a minute she stepped back and said, “We’ll just let that warm up for a minute. Let me go over the aftercare instructions with you while we wait.”
Most of it was standard: avoid direct sunlight on the area for 24-48 hours, what to do if problems arise, etc. Then she got to, “No strenuous exercise for the next 24 hours, particularly anything involving the treatment area.”
I blinked at her, then looked down at my lovely towel drape. “I’ll let my husband know,” I said. Then it was her turn to blink at me for a minute. (I was thinking: explain to me what OTHER sort of strenuous exercise I would be doing with my CROTCH? But then I realized that maybe she meant more like I shouldn’t… go biking. Whoops.)
Finally it was time to begin, and the good news is that Laser Lady wasn’t kidding—between whatever version of laser they use and the jet of cold air, I could barely feel most of the zapping. That was nice, because I distinctly remember ending more than one of my long-ago sessions in tears. Also, it went a lot faster than I remembered. I had to wear those dorky little eye goggle things people use in tanning beds, to protect my eyes from the laser, so I just put them on and laid back and responded to her requested to move this way or that, bend this knee, put this over here. I tried to think of happy thoughts and not about the fact that a stranger was using a laser between my legs.
About five minutes later she said, “Okay, we’re all done! I’m just going to wipe off the gel and put some calming lotion on it for you. So I took off the eyecups and waited for her to finish up. For whatever reason, I felt a lot more self-conscious about the smearing on of lotion after than I did about the laser part. And then when she said, “You can sit up now,” I did, and realized that my LOVELY paper panties had, in the process of being moved around during the procedure, crumpled in on themselves, and I now essentially had a drinking-straw-wrapper’s width of crumpled paper “covering” me. So now I had: A tiny strip of crumpled paper across completely exposed pubic hair, flanked by angry red skin that had just been lasered.
I HAVE NEVER FELT MORE SEXY. I flipped the towel over myself as quickly as possible.
Laser lady and I chatted while she put things away, then she told me to go ahead and get dressed and meet her up front. All I could think while she was talking was that I had the world’s worst wedgie, and I hoped she was shut up and leave so I could remove the paper panties. When my chance finally came, I discovered that dislodging and removing this monstrosity was actually something of a struggle. (Don’t ask. I was all slicked down with lotion, and apparently I am sort of… crevicey?) (YOU ARE WELCOME.)
Up front I made my appointment for the next visit, but also made a note while putting it on my calendar to wear light-colored panties. And possibly a mask.
ooooh, ow, my sides hurt from laughing.
Thank you for a good laugh.
It’s a good thing I get to leave work early…the section on the “strenuous exercise” had me barking in an attempt to keep the laughter more in than out. My coworkers think I’m nuts.
LOL…thanks for the laughs!!! Ha-Ha-Ha!!
I can’t even write a coherent comment….bwah haha hahah
I think this nearly every time you write it, but I’ve never mentioned it before — I ****love**** your little “YOU ARE WELCOME!” asides. Also, um, crevicey? I am never going to be able to hear/read the word crevice in the same way again. I will giggle the way my kids do if someone says the word toot.
Thanks, I needed a good belly laugh today. I have never written about my lady parts on my blog, but you may have just inspired me. Also I have a mammogram coming up soon, and boob-smashing is always good for a laugh, right?
Since I have never had anything lasered before, thanks for the lesson ;) (note to self: make sure I wear light colored panties!!)
You really do love us, don’t you?! That’s nice!
Strenuous exercise! LOL I would have thought the same thing.
“My panties are on fire! My panties are on fire!”
How is it that you can make a trip to the laser hair removal place so stinkin’ funny? I love it!
I’ve always wondered what that…procedure…was like. I’m full-on Yeti down there! :)
If possible–you are even prettier than before.
Oh thank you for a laugh after a long day with toddlers at an amusement park.
To Varda, definitely good for a laugh. My friend who is nursing her first baby just had to have a mammogram and the nurse had never seen anyone lactate all over the machinery before. Hilarious!
I just thought of your Dad reading this, and cringed. (;
That was awesome – one of my most favourite posts :) :)
Will you be following this fabulous post up with an even more hilarious Brazilian waxing story? No crinkled paper panties required there. ;)
I think I bought that same deal to have that same thing done. Discount lady-hair removal? OH YEAH! Someone asked me if it was a reputable place and I was all, it was on internetdealplace for 90% off–WHO CARES? Which, in retrospect, perhaps I *should* care about who is aiming a laser at my lady bits.
If your waxing experiences ended up anything like this, I can see why you went with laser.
Not exactly safe for work, but only because you will laugh so hard you either cry or pee.
I’m merely commenting on the previous post involving “Mrs. Brown’s Bikini Wax”. FUNNIEST THING EVER! I saw that a few weeks ago and my co-worker ended up buying the DVD box sets of the Mrs. Brown series.
I wish my gynecologist would just offer hair removal. My junk is already out in the open then. They could apply the wax, do the pap, then remove the wax strips. I don’t see how this hasn’t been done yet. I am trying to get over being squicked out by a technician between my legs–perhaps I need to go see the “Vagina Monologues” or something…it’s clearly MY issue.
I did not get to read this post until late last night,…in the privacy of my den. Upon recognition of the subject matter, my heart condition mandated that I read it with one eye closed and while mumbling “lalalala, she’s not really writing this.” I maintained composure only because no one could see the expression on my face. Self, I said: In the morning do not send a memo to everyone at the office suggesting they read this. Then I sought the solace of sleep and that’s where my true nature revealed itself.
Not once, but twice, before dawn I awoke hysterical…laughing.
Your blog runneth over. My progeny hath no limits!
Oh my goodness…your daddy not only read this, he commented. What a brave man! :-D
“Your blog runneth over. My progeny hath no limits!”…I just love your dad! LOL I could NEVER have the nerve to get a spray suntan because of what you’ve described in this post….and now, I know I NEVER will. ;o)
Ok I wouldn’t have commented except for your Dad. Love that man!
Oh, I do love it when you share stuff like this.
Imagine the Google hits you are going to get from THIS. Flaming panties! Crevices! Strenuous exercise with your crotch!!!
I need to know where you got the coupon and what place you went to, I have been DYING to clean up the bikini area but scared of pain (I also live where you live)
“…explain to me what OTHER sort of strenuous exercise I would be doing with my CROTCH?”
I’m laughing so hard I’m crying. Oh, my.
I’m sorry but the biking part really had me howling.. Tears and all. Thanks for the giggle :)
My lasered nether regions cry out to yours in sympathy and absolution. I have no idea what that means, except that you and I have a lot in common… I humbly offer my laser journey: http://shannoncolleary.blogspot.com/2011/04/pruning-lady-garden.html
Thank you for the laugh. My friend and I tried the Nads wax removal 6 or so years ago. It didn’t go well but it has provided laughs for us since then,
We need an official blogger’s warning: NSFSS = Not safe for serious situations. Kinda like NSFW but this covers any situation where laughing out loud isn’t a good idea. This would apply to anything written by The Bloggess, for example and would be clearly stated in the title. We really need to make this a thing.
Well I thought your comment about telling Otto was entirely appropriate and should have made her laugh…because people who aim lasers at people’s crotches just should not be that uptight.
I am laughing so hard that I’m snorting! It’s good to know that I’m not the only one who has experiences like this and a Father that squints his eyes as he puts his fingers in his ears chanting, “lalalalalalala!” I am going to come back to your blog more often and recommend it to my friends. It’s so refreshing after all of the facades of perfection that I come across daily.