Have you ever put Saran-Wrap on your lady parts? Don’t act like that’s a weird question.
Recently I let someone shoot red laser beams at my vajayjay over and over and over and OVER. And also at my legs. And armpits.
I know what you’re thinking. “I don’t remember that part in 50 Shades of Grey.” That’s because it’s not in 50 Shades of Grey, and also I probably wouldn’t trust a man to aim a laser at me when all of his blood is currently flowing in the completely opposite direction of his brain. AM I RIGHT?
I DID let someone (not a man) shoot me with laser beams though, because I’m sick of having my coworkers rip my hair out every month. Wait, that’s wrong. A more accurate statement would be that my coworkers are sick of ME, because I’m literally the worst client in the entire world and I will give any and every excuse for them not to pull the strip of hair off in that moment because blah blah blah and I’ll love you forever and buy you coffee EVERYDAY if you just stop torturing me already, and also I will aggressively grab your arm and smile so sweetly with terror in my eyes, alligator tears, and beg you to make it stop. So basically I’m worse than any of these clients that I’ve previously written about. I know this about myself though, and that’s the first step to recovery.
I don’t know why I’ve waited this long to give the permanent BUH-BYE to shaving and waxing, but it might have something to do with You’re taking ALL of my money right now? Okay cool, oh and also, Fucking OUCH.
Being an Esthetician, I knew quite a bit about the procedure and the skin-care side of being lasered, but that did not stop me one bit from having a minor panic attack in the car before I went in. I dumped a bunch of numbing cream down my pants in the parking lot at the last minute, with no qualms about the passersby trying to run errands in peace without getting an eyeful of my magic kingdom. I was also panic-texting my bestie about things that I just can’t share with you angels. Not even on a blog with the word “cunt” in the title. I was out of control. (Oh and also because some of it happened to be super sappy and what the fuck, people? I was totally prepared to be forever tormented by assholes, and nobody wants to hear about yummy mushy bullshit. I know, PUKE, right?).
I tried to take all necessary precautions and prepare myself as well as I possibly could before having my vagina potentially burned off, as this would highly negate the reason to get laser hair removal in the first place.
If you’re not familiar with laser hair removal, you have to shave the area before the appointment. As someone who waxes peoples hoo-ha’s for a living and pounds it into their brains that they should NEVER shave, I really felt like I was cheating on myself. With a razor. What I learned from this process is that shaving fucking sucks, BUT, if you MUST do it, men’s razors are WAY better and slightly less likely to make you want to take the blade to your wrist (thank you, Claire, for your razor wisdom). I also learned that shaving EVERYTHING off is exactly what I thought it’d be. Fucking ridiculous. I’m very aware that popular culture likes the bare look, and 99% of my clients have me give them the full-meal-deal, but I just don’t see how looking like a really tall pre-pubescent child with too much makeup on is sexy. Nobody wants to bang a ten year old and if you do want to do that, I do not want to bang you. Glad that’s out of the way. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with a landing strip. That’s all I’m saying.
After giving myself approximately 62 shaving-induced ingrown hairs, I decided to slather myself with the numbing cream I bought so that I could hopefully get through this procedure without having the cops called on me for punching my Esthetician in the kidney. Something fun I learned is that applying an active numbing agent on a freshly-shaved vagina is the exact same thing as rubbing liquid fire onto a freshly-shaved vagina. If I wasn’t busy sprinting to my freezer for the icepack while making up new curse words and fanning myself with both hands on the way there, I would’ve gladly taken a video of my freakout for you.
If you’re on the fence about using a numbing cream, I put together a pros and cons list for you (some people don’t want to put all of those chemicals on their skin. I on the other hand, don’t want to feel my vagina being lit on fire for an hour, so GIVE ME ALL THE CHEMICALS).
Pros to using numbing cream:
– Your vagina feels numb
– You can text your bestie about how your vagina feels numb
– You can text a guy you’re dating that your vagina feels numb.
– Don’t do that that last one
Cons to using numbing cream:
– It feels like fire
– Your vagina isn’t going to be numb enough
– Your vagina can never be numb enough
– It’s really difficult to distinguish between if you just feel like you have to pee, and if you are actually peeing. In your pants.
Another fun thing I learned about numbing cream is that it activates more if you put Saran Wrap over the area. Yes, I 100% DID Saran Wrap my vagina. And whatever you’re imagining as far as how I did it or what it looked like, is probably right on the money.
My Esthetician definitely thinks I’m crazy, and she’s not far off. I had my phone out the whole time, which surely creeped her out because who in their right mind takes pictures of someone burning the hair follicles out of their cooch? Well I’ve got news for you. I do that.
I promise you that this is the LEAST terrified I looked during my entire time on the table. The sexy glasses are to shield my eyes from the red light that the laser emits, but I know that it was actually to save my eyes from being shot with laser beams when I accidentally-on-purpose kicked my Esthetician in the face.
And just in case you don’t believe that I went through with it, that silver thing in the bottom right corner is a laser. I think you can guesstimate where she’s pointing it.
So what does it feel like, you ask? Well, let me just tell you. After drawing a grid on you with a white crayon, your Esthetician is going to start firing the laser, quickly, all over the grid she drew. It’s basically as if your vagina has become a game of Pacman except that instead of a cute yellow cartoon character running around your lady bits, it’s a ball of fire. Lovely.
I spent most of the time white-knuckling the table with one hand, texting my girlfriends and/or taking pictures with the other, and wondering if I’d ever let anyone near my vagina for any reason, ever again.
I survived though, and lucky for me I get several more treatments to look forward to, with the laser being put on a more intense setting every time. SO LUCKY. CAN’T WAIT.
It will all be worth it in the end, though. Right?
If not, I’ll just drown my sorrows in lots of Butterfinger blizzards (extra Butterfinger). As if I need an excuse to do that.
And on that note, I’m gonna go for a run. And by run I mean lounge on my rooftop deck with some wine.
Happy Friday, lovers!