Image by roadkillbuddha via Flickr
What exactly was I thinking when I decided it would be a good thing to fire lasers at my crotch? Who the hell knows? But to answer the obvious questions....No, I was not chugging pitchers of Long Island Ice Teas, smoking weed like Cypress Hill or taking PCP. Please! I ended those days long ago. Uh, no. I was not preparing for a job in the adult film industry....I have stage fright...really! Truth is I was seduced by the idea of never again in my lifetime picking up a freaking razor. Shaving underarms is a pain in the ass...or armpit. Bikini area? Just shoot me.
Seriously, is it too much to ask to just throw on a bathing suit without shaving first? I hate shaving, and while I love the idea of being such a great feminist that I refuse to shave anywhere, I'm just not that cool. Or brave. I mean really, you should have seen my legs after wearing a cast for 30 days. Full on Yeti!
Ladies, listen and listen good. (insert picture of my mother with her head cocked slightly to the side, scowling and pointing a finger). Nothing, and I mean nothing, is painless or quick about laser hair removal. They should call it razor hair removal. The pain is paralleled only by childbirth and I know this to be a fact.
I had to interrupt my razor hair removal for my pregnancy. And during childbirth I actually remembered the Jedi nurse telling me childbirth was equally painful. (insert picture of Jedi nurse hooked to lie detector and needle pointing to TRUTHFUL). And that is the main reason I have not continued on with it. I'm a straight up chicken. Besides, I figure my son Eli will eventually worry the patches of hair left on my body right out of their follicles before he leaves home, so why bother?
Because I've already paid for it! To the tune of three grand! Yes, it is true but shameful. Please note: It was pre poverty. Believe me, I could think of better things to spend three grand on now. Like a queen size mattress. Student loans. My son's first car. Okay, he's only 18 months old but he'll be driving. Some day. And I'll need car money.
For now I'll just continue charging that old Lady Remington, at least until I get brave enough for the pain or cool enough to be hairy.