Wednesday, February 09, 2011

A moment of vanity

I can't even believe it myself, let alone actually broadcast it. Yesterday, I went for a laser hair removal appointment for my legs. That's right. I'm going to get all those stubborn hair suckers lasered off my legs if it's the last thing I do.

Laser hair removal feels like some kind of fantasmagorical version of Gulliver's Travels. You're lying very still blind-folded on a table, as little lasers are shot into your legs like an army of lilliput arrows.
"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" I exclaimed for the first few minutes. Until I tired of the monotony of my own protests, and settled instead for a kind of whimpering presence. For one and a half hours, little lilliput arrows up and down my legs.

So why would you go through this, you ask?

When I was yet a babe in womb, I had specifically asked Gawd to be born slim, tall, long-legged and modelesque. It didn't happen. Let's face it, instead he made me into the little sausage-dog version of the human race.

Gawd, don't think I don't know I've been short-changed in the legs department.

So I'm going to take matters into my own control, and obliterate them hairs. What's the world come to when you can no longer depend on old white bearded men with tridents in their hands to solve all your problems for you.

That's right, World. Today, I've taken matters into my own hands. Today, I have the smoothest, hairlessest legs in town.