Hair today, gone tomorrow.

Back in October last year I published a blog about the horror of getting ready for Summer. And by getting ready for Summer I mean, removing enough hair from my body to feel comfortable wearing shorts, a skirt or for extra torture a bathing suit.

Since 2017 is the year of “Lisa gets her sassy on” (only referred to as this by me, no-one else knows and it’s never left my head before now), I decided it was time I did something about the body hair situation in a more permanent way.

I often refer to the bikini line region on my body as the follicle party region. All other areas of my body have a light to moderate amount of hair. Nothing too over the top. And then Pow! Follicular overload.

If you’re a visual learner imagine that small triangle they use to depict pubic hair is now a full-sized caution road sign, that stretches from hip to hip, belly button and beyond.

avviso
No go zone!

So, laser hair removal. I felt that it was my only option.

Because……sensitive to wax and creams, prone to in grown hairs from shaving, scared I was going to catch my lady lips in the emjoy not so gently and the lady at the threading place looked horrified when I asked her if she did bikini lines.

“Oh hey, do you want to put some cotton in your mouth, get really close to my vajayjay and rip some hairs out?”

Obviously did not think that one through beforehand. I get her horror. I mean she would need to wear a metal mouth guard to reinforce her teeth before attempting it.

So off to the laser clinic I go.

I had rung up to make the appointment and purchase the 10 session pack they told me should be enough to notice a significant result. I laughed inside because I knew this girl was on her way to buying a new car. 10 sessions, as if!

I also decided to throw in the underarms while I was at it. Why not?

I was told to shave the areas I wanted hair removed from. I had to block out time in the calendar for this, it was a big job. It had to be done the night before so the skin was freshly hairless.

I purchased a 5 pack of disposable razors, I didn’t want to get stuck half way through with a blunt razor.  I was picturing myself, bent over, hacking away at my pubic hair with blunt, rusty nail scissors. You know the ones you find in the bottom of the junk drawer?

So the day arrives.

I arrive at the clinic and am taken into the treatment room.

It’s explained to me that they will be using a highlighter to mark the areas that are to be treated.

Easy done.

The lovely young lady confirms that I am indeed having my underarms and my bikini line done.

Yes I am.

I am told to remove my clothes, use the wipes provided for the treatment areas and just pop up onto the table.

Can do.

All done, settled myself up on the bed, quick intake of breath as my body hits the cold paper. It’s at this point that I realise how vulnerable I am. Completely naked, on a treatment bed about to have a laser pointed at my most private of private parts.

** I was also concerned that I had taken off too many items of clothing. I have been known to stop listening at,  “Please remove your clothes”, and not hearing the last bit of, “Just leave your underwear on”.  It’s an important sentence and has seen me shock a number of practitioners! 

The therapist comes back in and I can tell straight away that I’m not meant to be nude.

She does a quick, high-pitched “OH”, and then says “We normally do one area at a time, next time just leave your underwear on and we can do the underarms first.”

As she approaches me with her highlighter I see her face start to distort. Oh god, what’s wrong with me?

She is looking at my bikini line and she says, “Didn’t they tell you to shave before you came in?”

“I did shave, I’m keeping this bit”, I say.

“What, all of it?” She looks slightly horrified.

I then go into a nervous, verbal diarrhea, justification,

“Oh this is nothing you should have seen it before, I’m old school I believe we should keep some hair down hair, I once tried to wax it myself and it looked like a patchwork quilt, I’m happy with that amount, do you really think it’s too much?”

She just looks, tells me it’s my choice and starts highlighting.

Then comes my favourite question.

I’m equal parts jealous and horrified.

Jealous that she get to ask people this everyday and horrified that I have to answer.

“Sooooooo, are you doing labia to anus?”

Say what?

Yep that’s right LABIA TO ANUS!

I tell her I am probably just going to stick with the bikini line for now and I will work my way up to it. Concern then floods her face as she looks deep into my eyes to tell me,

“You might want to consider getting it done soon, once the hairs are grey they aren’t affected by the laser.”

Thanks for that you labia ageist.

I finish the treatment, labia and anus still untouched by the “laser beam” and I get dressed.

All up I was in that little room for no more than 15 minutes. 15 life changing minutes.

I walk out, smile, make small talk, book my next 67 appointments, buy a scrub, a cream and a lotion to stop ingrown hairs. I’ll be honest, I was just buying everything she recommended in the hope that she would be so happy with her sales that she would forget about my nudity and not laugh with her friends about my amount of downstairs hair.

I leave my first laser experience with the following information-

  • I thought I had left a “landing strip” type of pubic set up, turns out that’s only if you’re landing the new Airbus 380.
  • I obviously have visible grey hair on my labia, which if not removed ASAP will leave my lady parts looking like the mad professor in Back to the Future.
  • I must leave my underwear on unless asked specifically to remove it.

The positives I take from this experience are that it didn’t hurt as much as I was expecting and that I will be reasonably less hairy by next Summer.

Lisa XX