It's The Pits

I've shared before the horror that was bikini area laser hair removal treatments and as a result, swore that I would never again subject myself to something like that. My principles go as far as my pocketbook, however, and I changed my stance when Groupon recently offered 90% off hair removal. My husband saw this deal and forwarded it to me with the following message:

"You should get your pits done. I say this with all my love...."

Pardon me while I swoon.

He was right, though. I had talked about getting laser hair removal so I could eliminate the torturous and time-consuming chore that is shaving my armpits. I'm now about two Groupon deals away from becoming completely useless. I bought the deal, figuring that arm pit laser treatments would be nothing compared to the humiliation and pain of the bikini area.

Spoiler alert: I'm a moron.

This morning was my first treatment. There was no numbing cream (or Saran Wrap undergarments) required for this area (I specifically asked) and I only had to take my shirt off, so I was already feeling way less vulnerable than I had for the bikini area. Until the technician started the procedure and it was all I could do to not jump off the table and slap her in the face. I said, "Wow. That really hurts!" (I delivered this with as much authority as I could, while wearing bright yellow tanning salon goggles to protect my eyes from the laser.)

Lady Gaga cannot relate.

She asked, "Is it the feeling of being poked by needles that bothers you?" and I replied, "Honestly, over the searing heat that feels like Lucifer himself is shoving a branding iron in my arm pit, I cannot even feel any needles."

I begged for a numbing cream prescription as she continued with the treatment. Then, as we were almost done, something happened that obviously startled her. I asked what was wrong and the rest of the exchange went as follows:

Technician (Somewhat confusedly): "There is a window washer just outside the window."
Me (Calmly):  "Surely you have some sort of film on the windows so he can't see in, as this is a medical office."
Technician (Matter of factly): "No."
Me (Helpfully) : "Well, can you just lower the blinds?"
Technician (Matter of factly): "They are broken and don't go down all the way."

>crickets<

Me (Resignedly): "How about I just hide over here in the corner as I put my shirt on?"

And once again, I find myself facing five more of these treatments over the next year.

Thank you, sir, may I have another?
Brutalism