Lasers, Whiskey Victor, and Vibrating Mascara -How Lazy Am I, Really?

I'm three weeks out from condensing my belongings into two 70 pound bags and a carry-on. At least everything I will need for nine months of studying wine. In Tuscany. Yeah, I'm really going to be roughing it. Customs, I hear, is a goat-rope so mailing stuff in advance is discouraged by the school, and having things sent to me afterwards is not a good plan. So I must pack wisely. And I must remember that I will not be in a third world country and can get some basics (hot Italian leather boots, aaaaiiiiigggt?) over there.

I'm also diligent in a parallel effort to reduce stuff and clutter in my house - and life. This week I spent a lot of time discarding excess clothing, electronics, and invested a good chunk of this morning 'detangling' gold chains and looking for a place to hock all my old jewelry that hasn't seen the light of day in 10 - 20 years. After driving around town making my deposits at Ebay sellers & charity thrift stores, I decided that some of the shopping I've avoided for weeks should get done today, Friday. I have a rule that I don't "do" stores on Saturdays. My dream has always been to have a day off during the week so I don't have to shop in teeny-bopper hell on the weekends.

Topping my shopping list today list were "must have" skin care items and something to "clean up" what seven months of laser treatments missed. (NOTE 1: Be careful what your girlfriends talk you into). I chose two items and asked the first cosmetologist on location if she had any information about the products. The conversation went like this:

She pointed to the first one, and said, "That one hurts."

"I'm good with pain, as long as it works," I told her. "I've had laser, and need to tidy things up a little."

She proceeded to tell me how her boyfriend was having laser done around the neckline, and that he said it hurt like hell.

"When he's had it done 'down there,' as in Brazilian, then he can whine about how much it hurts," I said, again, nodding to my "Badge of Laser Courage."

(NOTE 2: That said, let it be known that I was screaming at the laser tech the whole time she was in 'that area' how I couldn't believe I was paying them to do that to me. But to never have to shave again? Yes, I AM that lazy.) I bought both products. Bring the pain.

On to some less invasive supplies for above the neck. Then I saw it. What the ... I took a step back ... I got closer ... and thought I was seeing things. Did that say, "Vibrating Mascara???" Seriously? Well that's just a bad day waiting to happen in my book.

The last time I bought something that vibrated (NOTE 3: Same girlfriends who got me into the "Brazilian laser" situation, also insisted this thing, we'll just call the Whiskey Victor, was the bee's knees) I was hugely disappointed. It required a day or two in the charger (that's what I said) before you can play. When the quarantine period was up, I gave it a try. I turned it on and waited. Huh. Maybe I'm not using it right. I turned it around. Nope. Flipped over onto my belly. Nothing. Fell asleep and woke up 20 minutes later. It...was...still...running. Flipped back over onto my back. On my belly, on my back, on my belly, on my back - think Navy Seal training, but less sand and yelling. I finally brought in reinforcements to finish the job. There's an hour of my life I'll never get back. In the words of Sex and the City's Samantha Jones in the episode where she returned the "neck massager" to Sharper Image: "If we want to work that hard, we'd get us a man, am I right?" That's about where I was with this thing. I gave it one more try a few weeks later, and haven't seen it since. There went $100 I could have used for things like hair removal torture and vibrating mascara.

I did not buy the mascara with the vibrating brush. It very well could be the bee's knees. But we all know damned well I'd poke my eye out, which may be less painful than the laser, and more fun than the Whiskey Victor in the long run. But hey, life is short. And so are my lashes, and I'm willing to live with it.

I also believe my Merryvale Starmont Chard is adequately chilled now, so on with my "pain-free" Friday night.