Lasering 2: The procedure
They turned the power up this time. I'm happy for that, as it means more hair-killing power. But it also means the little stabbing needle this time felt more like sharpened rare spotted panda bones. There is something sublime about lying back on a paper covered table, staring straight up at the ceiling, watching the smoke from your armpits drift up towards the fluorescent lights. It's like being in a dentist's office, but the dentist's aim is horribly wrong. This time the smell of burnt hair was quite strong.
Left to right across the hairs. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. This would make a good children's song, I thought amidst the pain killers.
Ian was watching with the fascination of a jeweler watching a Nascar wreck. I wondered if, given the chance, he would decorate my pits with supple curves of laserburn. Thankfully, there was a little conversation going about the procedure, so I wouldn't have to think about the pain.
"So it's not aimed at the hair?" [Ow!]
"It covers a round area of 10 mm. An entire dot." [Ow!]
"That's fascinating. Does it burn the skin?" [Ow!]
"No." [Ow! Liar!]
The lady was actually really nice to both of us. I get the feeling she's not used to working with an audience.
After the burning sensation came the much-appreciated armpit ice pack. You'll never know how much your body can appreciate the arctic north until you've had this done. If you're getting lasered, get it done in the middle of a snowstorm. On a frozen lake. In your undies. The weird thing is that I could barely feel it. My pits were still numb from the cream. It's not like your armpits ever go numb. You can sit on a leg in a weird position and get a numb foot. But you can't get numb armpits unless you pull a Christopher Reeve.
But the surrounding areas, and the lightly roasted meat underneath my skin, was very appreciative. Now that I've been out for a few minutes, my arms are starting to feel like I've done the parallel bars on a very hot day. There are many worse pains than this in beauty: Waxing. Plucking. Sanding. But as I don't do any of those things... Ow.
Left to right across the hairs. Zap. Zap. Zap. Zap. This would make a good children's song, I thought amidst the pain killers.
Ian was watching with the fascination of a jeweler watching a Nascar wreck. I wondered if, given the chance, he would decorate my pits with supple curves of laserburn. Thankfully, there was a little conversation going about the procedure, so I wouldn't have to think about the pain.
"So it's not aimed at the hair?" [Ow!]
"It covers a round area of 10 mm. An entire dot." [Ow!]
"That's fascinating. Does it burn the skin?" [Ow!]
"No." [Ow! Liar!]
The lady was actually really nice to both of us. I get the feeling she's not used to working with an audience.
After the burning sensation came the much-appreciated armpit ice pack. You'll never know how much your body can appreciate the arctic north until you've had this done. If you're getting lasered, get it done in the middle of a snowstorm. On a frozen lake. In your undies. The weird thing is that I could barely feel it. My pits were still numb from the cream. It's not like your armpits ever go numb. You can sit on a leg in a weird position and get a numb foot. But you can't get numb armpits unless you pull a Christopher Reeve.
But the surrounding areas, and the lightly roasted meat underneath my skin, was very appreciative. Now that I've been out for a few minutes, my arms are starting to feel like I've done the parallel bars on a very hot day. There are many worse pains than this in beauty: Waxing. Plucking. Sanding. But as I don't do any of those things... Ow.
posted by Chris at
5:06 PM
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