Adventures in laser hair removal
It started exactly a year after 9/11. I had to travel from Boston to Toronto on business that day and was a little nervous. On my return flight out of Toronto the security guy pulled me and my carry on over and started digging in my make up bag.
"There's something in here," he says, giving me a suspicious look.
He digs and finally pulls out a pair of tweezers. He glares at me as if I were planning to singlehandedly shank my way into the cockpit using only a pair of eyebrow tweezers and my cat-like reflexes.
"Oh yeah," I say, "Those are my tweezers. In my makeup bag. Cuz I sometimes tweeze my eyesbrows around the same time that I put on my makeup. Which is also in the bag. Hence me calling it a 'makeup bag.'"
Sometimes I ramble when I'm nervous.
He didn't find me funny. "There's something else," he says, continuing to dig. He fumbles his paws all over my Viva Glam to my chagrin and finally pulls out another set of tweezers.
"Oh. Yeah, those are the ones that I keep in my bathroom at home. I must have thrown them in when I was packing."
He gives me a gimlet eye as if to ask whyever would a girl need two sets of tweezers.
I just look him in the eye, shrug and say, "I'm Greek."
He lets me and my tweezers go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now, I'm really not a particularly hairy person, but I have dark hair so I am vigilant. My friend Jen is blonde and says things like, "My hair is so light that I don't even shave my thighs."
Jen is a bitch.
So now here I find myself in Florida where hair removal is practially offered as a college-level course. I decide to investigate, not wanting another grubby security guy mauling my M.A.C.
I make an appointment for a 'consultation' for laser hair removal. The place looks like a dentist's office staffed by girls from the Clinique counter - squeaky clean women with glossy pulled back hair in white lab coats. They give me more papers to fill out than my doctor.
The last form has line drawings of a female body and a male body. "Indicate the areas you are interested in" it says. Hmmm...interested in? I'm tempted to draw circles around the male body, but I decide to behave myself and focus on the female drawing. Part of me wants to just put a big circle around everything but the head, but I just do the right thing and place my circles in the correct areas. Everywhere.
This young lady takes me into an office and talks me off the ledge. "You don't even have hair there, the laser is never going to get that!" etc.
We decide on two major areas: underarms and bikini.
This is the point where all illusions of a doctor's office go right out the window.
"OK," she says, "Do you want the bikini or the full brazilian?"
"Uh...well...uh...I mean, if I'm going to have the procedure, let's have the procedure, you know? But I don't want to be like bald or anything, if that's what you mean."
"OK then!," she says, and whips out a piece of paper with several more line drawings on it.
I blink. No. It can't...what? What am I looking at?
"Do you want the landing strip? The heart? The circle? The natural vee? The smaller vee? The diamond? Or the square?"
"Are you actually showing me hairstyles?"
"Yeah. So what'll it be?"
"Do people actually get the heart?"
"Oh yeah. All the time."
"This is permanent, right?"
"Uh huh."
"So, like there are women out there..right now..who will be like 90 year old women...with a heart shaped box?"
"Well, I never thought of it that way," she giggles, "but yeah."
I am fascinated.
"Do people ask for custom shapes?"
"Oh yeah! Not so much here, but in South Beach the lightning bolt and the chili pepper are both very popular. Especially with the gay men"
This information alone is worth the price of the procedure.
"So, what are you going to get?"
"Um..."
"Well, it doesn't really matter, because you just shave in the shape you want and the technician will go around that area."
"Then why are you sexually harassing me with these line drawings?"
Is it bad that through the entire conversation I wanted to use finger quotes like Doctor Evil every time I said the word "laser"?
"There's something in here," he says, giving me a suspicious look.
He digs and finally pulls out a pair of tweezers. He glares at me as if I were planning to singlehandedly shank my way into the cockpit using only a pair of eyebrow tweezers and my cat-like reflexes.
"Oh yeah," I say, "Those are my tweezers. In my makeup bag. Cuz I sometimes tweeze my eyesbrows around the same time that I put on my makeup. Which is also in the bag. Hence me calling it a 'makeup bag.'"
Sometimes I ramble when I'm nervous.
He didn't find me funny. "There's something else," he says, continuing to dig. He fumbles his paws all over my Viva Glam to my chagrin and finally pulls out another set of tweezers.
"Oh. Yeah, those are the ones that I keep in my bathroom at home. I must have thrown them in when I was packing."
He gives me a gimlet eye as if to ask whyever would a girl need two sets of tweezers.
I just look him in the eye, shrug and say, "I'm Greek."
He lets me and my tweezers go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now, I'm really not a particularly hairy person, but I have dark hair so I am vigilant. My friend Jen is blonde and says things like, "My hair is so light that I don't even shave my thighs."
Jen is a bitch.
So now here I find myself in Florida where hair removal is practially offered as a college-level course. I decide to investigate, not wanting another grubby security guy mauling my M.A.C.
I make an appointment for a 'consultation' for laser hair removal. The place looks like a dentist's office staffed by girls from the Clinique counter - squeaky clean women with glossy pulled back hair in white lab coats. They give me more papers to fill out than my doctor.
The last form has line drawings of a female body and a male body. "Indicate the areas you are interested in" it says. Hmmm...interested in? I'm tempted to draw circles around the male body, but I decide to behave myself and focus on the female drawing. Part of me wants to just put a big circle around everything but the head, but I just do the right thing and place my circles in the correct areas. Everywhere.
This young lady takes me into an office and talks me off the ledge. "You don't even have hair there, the laser is never going to get that!" etc.
We decide on two major areas: underarms and bikini.
This is the point where all illusions of a doctor's office go right out the window.
"OK," she says, "Do you want the bikini or the full brazilian?"
"Uh...well...uh...I mean, if I'm going to have the procedure, let's have the procedure, you know? But I don't want to be like bald or anything, if that's what you mean."
"OK then!," she says, and whips out a piece of paper with several more line drawings on it.
I blink. No. It can't...what? What am I looking at?
"Do you want the landing strip? The heart? The circle? The natural vee? The smaller vee? The diamond? Or the square?"
"Are you actually showing me hairstyles?"
"Yeah. So what'll it be?"
"Do people actually get the heart?"
"Oh yeah. All the time."
"This is permanent, right?"
"Uh huh."
"So, like there are women out there..right now..who will be like 90 year old women...with a heart shaped box?"
"Well, I never thought of it that way," she giggles, "but yeah."
I am fascinated.
"Do people ask for custom shapes?"
"Oh yeah! Not so much here, but in South Beach the lightning bolt and the chili pepper are both very popular. Especially with the gay men"
This information alone is worth the price of the procedure.
"So, what are you going to get?"
"Um..."
"Well, it doesn't really matter, because you just shave in the shape you want and the technician will go around that area."
"Then why are you sexually harassing me with these line drawings?"
Is it bad that through the entire conversation I wanted to use finger quotes like Doctor Evil every time I said the word "laser"?
posted by Rebecca at 11:09 PM
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