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.