I ran to the subway in my pink private-eye trench coat, flouncy cowgirl skirt, obnoxious golf umbrella, and a bag full of books to keep me occupied during my impending torture at the laser center. A German tourist sought shelter in the subway entrance and thought his young good looks would make that ok, but I trounced him and hurried down the stairs to catch the train.
A few stops later, I jumped out of the train, made it to the pavement and dashed to the appointment on Central Park South, running past a group of tourists with bodega plastic bags on their heads, a carraige horse parked next to a steaming sewer plate, and Gene Hackman who was looking for a limo before making it to the my appointment.
The place was quiet. It was just me and the esthetician. I signed a bunch of papers, learned not to wax, pluck, put scented lotion on, give sun exposure to the freshly lasered area, etc. An alian buzzing came from near the machine I came to know as The Laser, which was just the static from the jazz radio station that wouldn't work when it rained outside.
I lay on the bed, armed with Fast Food Nation (with Narnia as a backup), as the esthetician smeared super cold jel they use for sonograms over where she was about to apply the laser, the size of which, was about one square inch encased in an oval plastic head with a trigger on it. I tried not to tense, but I braced and curled my toes in preparation. She counted down...1...2...beep! A little hard lick came out of the beep and left a warm sensation. It was like pushing the top of a mechanical lead pencil to make the lead come out into your skin, like when you did magic tricks to make the lead look like it was disappearing into your skin during math class instead of taking notes. She did it again...1...2...beep! Where was the pain? It was just this odd sensation of a little frog grabbing a hair follicle instead of a fly. Waxing is way worse!
On and on this went. The few times I winced was when it hit a particularly stubby little family of hair on the same place of each thigh (oddly). The laser looks for pigment, and with my light skin and dark hair, I guess it had a field day of direct hits. It took about an hour to cover my upper legs and bikini, and when we were through, I was covered in remnants of the gross jelly, which was the worst part! The laser, comprised of light and heat, leaves behind heat under your skin, so you need to apply the lotion to cool and hydrate the area. I'm following directions and putting special hydrating lotion on 4 times a day for 3 days (well, I forgot to bring it to work, so I'll apply as soon as I get home). So far, so good!
Honestly, if this doesn't become the next norm, next to getting braces! The cumulative hours and money spent shaving, plucking, squeezing, creaming, all in secret privacy during selected beauty hours. What a waste! Everyone should get laser hair removal. If this all works, I just might be making more investments...anything that is plucked or creamed gets the Laser's Kiss! My next appointment is in September...
Click here for a Mayo Clinic article on laser hair removal
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Disclaimer: FashionMista, nor its author, are qualified to give medical advice and cannot be held responsible for anything that may occur. Should you have a medical concern, please consult your physician.
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