Embarrassing Errands

“Perfect!” She chirped again and I frowned at her this time.

“OK.” I said, trying to be light and happy too. “So there’s a little hair on my chin. A bit along my jaw. My lip. Oh, and I do a lot of plucking on my eyebrows to keep them from being all thick. I... basically have problems.”

“Perfect!” She said again, opening her little binder to consult prices. “So instead of mixing bits and pieces together, it’d be cheaper to do the full face package.”

How embarrassing, I decided sadly. Monday brought a therapy session with a friend. Yesterday found me so desperate for food that I considered eating the box after finishing my personal pizza. And this morning I sat in a nicely decorated office discussing laser hair removal. A full face package. I’m painfully self-conscious about it – I really, really, really hate it. The problem is worsened by the fact that I have dark hair and pale skin. It’s just icky.

“You’re a perfect candidate for the treatment!” Britney said again after she’d listed all the procedures she’d personally had. I told Friend that I was going to inquire about becoming completely hairless. I didn't, but I think little Britney was well on her way there and I found myself momentarily jealous of her job that must allow hefty discounts. “The new lasers are more attracted to density than color, but it still helps a lot to have dark hair and light skin. And you don’t tan, so that’s perfect!”

She flipped through some pages. “So we sell packages – as many treatments as you need to get results that make you happy.” She tried for a serious tone but her inherent hairless cheer was hard to repress. I could tell. “We start with six treatments, spaced 7 weeks apart for the face, and each one should zap the hair in the right part of the growth cycle. So the hair will get lighter and thinner as we go on, but it’ll take some time to get it all. But don’t worry! We’ll keep at it until it's perfect!”

“What happens to the hair after it dies?” I asked.

“It’ll work its way out. I didn’t even notice mine – but after a few days, it’ll just release itself and fall out!”

“Oh.” I said, wrinkling my nose. Then I thought of never glancing in the mirror and reaching for tweezers again. So, fine. I’ll handle it.

“Will there be skin irritation?” I asked later on as I signed many, many papers. Consent forms, HIPAA documents, payment options, instructions for before and after treatments, the 2 year guarantee…

“A bit.” She replied, flipping through forms herself. “We say to treat it like a mild sunburn, but I don’t think it’s that bad. But there’s lotion you’ll use for 3 days afterward to make sure the skin recovers nicely. And you’ll need to be extra careful with sun block for a couple weeks before the treatment. There are products we give you with the package to make sure you’re all set. But you shouldn’t blister or peel. If you do, let us know and we’ll reevaluate.”

I went to make my first appointment – Saturday morning – and nearly rolled my eyes. Britney and friend were listening to a Britney Spears CD on this little blue stereo. It was so cutesy even I cringed and I have a teddy bear holding a felt flower on my desk. But I still think I made the right choice.

First, this is something I really want to do. The hair bothers me on a profound level – I want it gone. So I made an appointment with a dermatologist through my work insurance. But my health insurance doesn’t cover anything cosmetic, so going through the standard healthcare channels wasn’t necessary. The MD assured me that lasers would be effective for me and made an appointment at a clinical with the technology. I’d already waited 6 weeks to see her for 5 minutes. I was scheduled to wait until the end of March to see someone else in the group. And I expected it to be pricey.

“So I’m going commercial.” I told Friend of my hairless plan. “I called and they told me I could come that same day. Plus, they have specials and coupons! They’re part of the competitive industry which should help me out. Cheaper! Better service!”

I’ll let you know how it goes. I might come back and say that I can’t believe I’m paying $100/month for a year to have someone hurt me to remove hair. We’ll have to see.

In other embarrassing errand news, I went to Walmart after work to exchange a Christmas gift. I walked through the door when two women gasped at me.

“Is that broken?” One of them yelled. “Or do you just not want it? Miss? Is that broken?!”

“It makes a funny noise.” I said, doing what many people would do when something they own is coveted. I clutched it tighter to my chest. “I’m exchanging it.”

“She’s not going to find another one.” One said to the other as the greeter put a pink sticker on the box. The customer service agent told me the same thing, though she was nice about my receipt being older than 90 days.

“Try to find another one, but they’re limited.” She warned. “Come back whether you find one or not.”

I had, of course, carefully scouted the toy section each time I went to Walmart. My Elmo made weird noises when tickled. I loved him, but I wanted one that wasn’t broken. When Friend and I were in the pet section on Monday, I drug her though the toy department and sighed when I reached the 'toys that talk and move' section.

“I’m never going to find one.” I said despondently. But I brightened when she pointed at the gray boxes on the shelf below.

“Is that them?” She asked. I nodded happily and put broken Elmo in the car when I got home so I could exchange him at the soonest opportunity. I nearly ran back to the toy department today, going directly to where the boxes had been. All three remained on their shelf, so I selected the middle one and carried it to the front to make my exchange. If the pessimistic women I saw upon entering the store had simply looked for the item, they would have found it.

But I’m proud of my new Elmo. I brought him home and fended off the animals while I watched him laugh and fall to the floor, only to pick himself back up again. I’m pleased that I’m slowly fixing problems. The broken toy Mom gave me has finally been replaced, though I’m sure she never thought I’d get to it. The hair that so bothers me is about to get zapped, regardless of cost or pain. I’d call myself a grown up if I hadn’t written an entire post about exchanging Elmo and buying my laser package.

So while life is hardly the “perfect!” that Britney proclaimed every little thing, it is good. Amusing and interesting and absurd sometimes. But good.