The Conclusion of part 1: On Masculinity

I bet this is the kind of music they play to drive inmates insane.



The laser machine, if you haven't been near one before, is a little cube about waist high that rolls around on the floor. It has an attachment wand like a dental drill, and it hums like an air conditioner. Something about the humming reeks of unsatisfied anger. The machine does its job not because it likes beautifying people, but because it wants to kill hair. As I lie down on the operating loofah, that anger is both comforting and terrifying. It is the most masculine thing in here.

The whole procedure should only take about 15 minutes in the operating theater. First they scrape off the old numbing agent with tongue depressors. Which, I don't know why, was incredibly funny to me. Next they smear on a splattering of an optical goo to help the laser see my freshly shaven hair. Then comes the admission.

"The part near the middle is usually the most painful. I'm going to start on the outside and work my way in."

Yup, when they say that the procedure is painless, they mean that it's painless for the operator. The person on the table, however, is screwed.

The wand from the angerbox comes out. It has a big metal foot on it, just like a sewing machine. She rubs the wand around one of my underarm areas, and says that she is going to turn it on, and to brace myself.

The sewing machine analogy was surprisingly apt. The procedure felt like being stabbed repeatedly but gently by a well-oiled sewing machine. It was actually a line-by-line procedure, similar to those old hand-held scanners in the late 90's. Run the laser across a strip of skin, move over a quarter of an inch, do it again, etc. The actual lasing part only took maybe 45 seconds per side. Admittedly, it was a long 45 seconds: full of shots of pain, tiny pops, and a burning hair smell.

I wish some sort of insight into the meaning of life and beauty had crossed my mind during this time. But really, all I could think was "Ow! That wasn't so bad. Ow! That wasn't so bad. Ow! That wasn't so bad..." And it wasn't. Basically, there were tiny exploding ants in my armpits, thanks to the magnifying glass and sun this woman was holding. It hurt, and I gritted my teeth and grabbed on to the operating loofah. But, you know, in a relaxed way. Because, hey, I'm a man. And this doesn't hurt me. We're doing both pits today? Damn.

Fortunately, it only lasted about 45 seconds on each side. After the light-based stabbing, came some much loved ice and aloe vera. Now my pits are a veritable Pangaea of pre-animate goo. Stay cool. Don't exercise too much. Take cool showers. Call me if anything weird happens.

I schedule my next appointment, and take a peppermint on my way out. It's back to Tibetan flute music.

You know how when you get your mouth shot full of Novocaine, suddenly it feels huge and floppy? My armpits feel huge and floppy. And thanks to the laser, they feel vaguely like they've been punched. So now in the name of vanity and staying cool, I feel like I've been mugged in the deodorant areas by a women's day spa. And you know what? I'm OK with that. Because I'm a man, and it doesn't bother me. Ow.

The music will not stop

Thanks to the numbing cream in my armpits, my underarms feel like my teeth at the dentist's.  Which is to say, they don't feel much, but somehow they don't feel it a whole lot.  The radio in my underarms got really quiet, but somebody turned up the static.  And for some strange reason, it is making my mouth taste like t-shirts.  

The Tibetan music patiently waits.

The very nice woman who is going to kill spots of my underarm came by with a concern about shingles.  Specifically, because I had shingles before, that the laser treatment might evoke an "outbreak." She seemed to be getting shingles, which are caused by the chicken pox virus, confused with herpes.  I can see why one would be careful, but they're really not related.  Somehow I don't feel comfortable giving medical lectures to my doctors*.

*(Actually a doctor! I was expecting some sort of BS "Beauty Technician" title, but she's a bonafied MD)

The 90% off Groupon has turned this office into grand central station for middle class women with more hair than money.  Apparently, men want to avoid hair loss, and women want to guide it to their upper lips and underarms.  Still no signs of another man.  Is this what Doctor Livingston felt, trudging through the wilds of Africa, sitting on white-toweled wicker recliners?

The music has switched to the kind of softly romantic Spanish guitar one would hear during the "painful loss remembered" scenes in 80's movies.  The waiting continues.

Numbing agents

Clearly, this office was made for men.  The soothing pink / purple shade of the beach-at-sunset paintings just calls out to me.  I don't feel at all out of place here at all, despite being the only man in the office (or even pictured up on the walls, in the literature, or on their website).

The carpet is reassuringly light and ivory speckled.  In other words, it's not so dark that it would hide bloodstains from the procedures.  Sometimes I wonder how people survive their medical procedures without paying attention to details like these.

The Tibetan flute music is continuing.  The optimist in me is looking forward to a bright new hairless future.

They just took me back to be numbed. Put up your arms, and smear a fun numbing goo underneath.  To seal this in, I kid you not... Cling wrap.  Not just a medical wrap resembling plastic food preservative, but honest-to-goodness comes from a red box at the supermarket Cling Wrap.

The lasering starts shortly.

The Lasering: Pregame

The laser clinic was a bit hard to find. It is in one of those fashionable "medical" clinics on Brookline ave... you know, the ones with a big glass dome that specialize in bleaching hair. This particular laser clinic wasn't particularly well signed. Initially I walked in, downstairs, into the boiler room, and into the janitor's closet. I couldn't tell you if they seemed like a respectable place to get a medical procedure done, but by their electric meter they sure did use a lot of juice.

Once I found them, though, they looked like a small operation desperately trying to look like a bigger operation. Their first waiting room was built to look like a doctor's office. Their second waiting room had reclining wicker chairs with white towels laid across them, but the telltale room shape of a low-rent basement store. They devoted more floorspace to those waiting rooms than the treatment rooms. It smelled like a Natural Wonders.

The lady that took me in for the consultation was quite sweet, friendly, and hadn't a spot of hair below her eyebrows. Her nails were impeccably done in a shade of blue reminiscent of a lounge singer lost on a trail of undulations. While I like my medical professionals old, craggy, and uncaring, she seemed like she was 25 and still hadn't quite been crushed by life. Oh, and she was full of helpful facts, such as:

1. You can't actually call it "hair removal" in the US, as that honor is reserved for electrolysis and raising teenagers. It is just "hair suppression." It will, eventually, grow back.

2. Supposedly it is painless. Also, they offer numbing cream for 25$ per session. I'll let you draw your own conclusions.

3. It works by a highly scientific principle known as the "Magnifying Glass / Ant" theorm. The laser creates an intensely hot burst of light, like what a magnifying glass does to the sun. Your armpit hair is dark enough that it absorbs the light, baking off the root of the hair. Just like an ant... though hopefully less explodey. Remember how they said it was painless?

4. A full series is between 6 and 8 sessions of 1 hour each, spread apart by 6 weeks. Too much longer, and your follicles recover.

5. No swimming or strenuous exercise for 2 days after the session. Nothing that might raise body heat is allowed. Things like rock climbing, jogging, or the biggest damned heat wave to hit the east coast in years. Otherwise temporary or permanent discoloration can result.

In 2.5 hours time, the treatment starts. Let the games begin!