So as is usual in our home, my four year old daughter got out of her bed and came in to ours at around 2AM. We had a LOT of trouble conceiving her after my son was born and so we both look on her as a bit of a miracle, so we do not discourage this. Besides, you only gitta be a little critter once. Anyway, somewhere in the night I roll over and hear the little one whisper.
“Poppa?” she says softly. I play possum hoping I can get back to sleep.
“Poppa?” she says a bit louder and still I try to stay asleep.
Next, I feel little hands pushing me to shake me awake and she gets even louder.
“What sweetheart?” I say, still sleepy and maybe not as nice as I would hope to be.
“Are you awake?” she says softly, as if there is any doubt.
“Yes sweetheart, I’m awake. What’s wrong baby?”
“There’s a pterodactyl under the sheets trying to eat my toes poppa.” She says matter of factually. At this point I notice she has her feet just about buried in my spleen, presumably to keep the pterodactyls away from her toes. I guess she figured if that pterodactyl was gonna eat her toes he’d damn well have to go through poppa to get to ‘em!
I did the usual parent thing where I reassured her that everything was all right, there are no pterodactyls in the world anymore, etc, etc. 20 minutes later she starts to quiet down and I think I’m outta the woods and can go back to sleep when I hear:
“Poppa? I have to go potty.” This is pretty typical stuff and nothing we haven’t done before.
“well go ahead baby,” I say, “You’re a big girl. You can go potty by yourself.” I feel the bed moving and shaking as she prepares to get out. I start to nod off again and then realize that after her first bit of movement, she is still sitting up in the bed.
“What’s the matter baby?” I asked.
“I’m afraid there might be a pterodactyl under the bed Poppa – would you go potty with me?” Took her potty and as she gets back in the bed I told her again that there are no more pterodactyls in the whole world. Apparently not quite understanding what they were talking about in her daycare when they discussed these things, she tells me:
“I know, they are stinked.” . . . . huh? I’m sleepy and didn’t quite get it myself.
“They’re what baby?” I asked
“They’re stinked Poppa. . . they’re all dead!” Ah . . . the light goes off.
“Oh, you meant they are EXTINCT!” I say.
“That’s what I said Poppa!” getting exasperated with the stupid adult again, “They’re stinked!”
So today I went in for a laser appointment. You can’t imagine how much trepidation I feel over this as I’ve tried laser once and it failed. But I’ve now had two people I know personally tell me that it has worked for them. One of them showed me pictures of before and after, and his beard was almost exactly like mine. Now it is gone. Anyway, did a lot of research and talked to a lot of people and I am convinced that the folks that treated me the first time were using both, the wrong equipment, and poorly trained techs. I have decided to risk it again.
These folks did exactly the right thing with me – she was honest. Among other things:
It will not kill all of your hair.
You WILL have to come back once or twice a year.
It will hurt.
There are no guarantees.
Okay, so I can accept coming back once or twice a year if it means I don’t have to be the bearded lady most of the time. Got all the paper work out of the way and laid down on the couch for my first treatment with these folks. Oh my God people, it had been years since I tried this and so the memory had grown vague, but that HURTS! Imagine someone taking a good thick rubber band, putting one end up against your face and pulling the other end back as far as they can . . . and then letting go so it smacks you. Now do that 30 or 40 times across your face while they also apply a hot iron to the area they just treated, and you start to get the picture of how it felt.
If you read the stuff put out by the companies that provide laser hair removal, they lie through their teeth. They tell you it is rarely painful but that some people with a low pain threshold may feel “some discomfort”. Forgive me for being blunt, but that is pure and utter bullshit. I don’t care who you are, it hurts, and it hurts bad. By the time she was done, I was shaking visibly from a combination of the pain and the nerves and my face felt like it was on fire. In Austin Texas, it is in the high 90’s (F), and so when I got in the car I thought I was gonna die of heat stroke, and my face was pulsing. Smelled bad too – smelled like burnt hair. Turned the AC on full, aimed all vents at my face and drove home. . .
With a smile on my face . . .
Feeling pretty damn good about it too!
Well, the swelling and redness went down in about an hour and by the time I got home my face looked no worse than it does when I shave closely three days in a row. Right now it feels like a sunburn but nothing serious. Keep your fingers crossed, ‘cause if it actually kills the damn hair this time, it well be WELL worth the pain.
Die beard, die!