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Lasers Will Make Me Beautiful

A year ago, I underwent laser eye surgery, or Lasik. A battery of eye tests proved my candidacy for treatment, and an impromptu laser repair procedure for a hole in my right cornea rendered me able to receive the surgery.

I emerged as a doe-eyed butterfly from the tyrannical cocoon of eyeglasses. Sources confirm that I am now 1.75% prettier than when stylish brown/pink frames obscured the windows of my soul.

More importantly, I can now easily perform activities for which I used to have to put on or take off my glasses, including:

  • Rolling directly out of bed in the morning 
  • Taking off a shirt/sweater/tight tank top 
  • Smooshing my face against other people’s 
  • Wearing sunglasses 
  • Swimming 
  • et cetera 

In other words, Lasik vastly improved my quality of life.

Now I embark upon the next step: laser hair removal. According to my calculations, having hairless underarms shall enhance my beauty, and thus my societal approval rating and self-esteem, by at least 0.89%. I will also be able to wear sleeveless tops whenever I want. Whenever I want!!!

Being the third daughter, I follow in the path that my pioneering sisters forged in the past. My older sister already has flawless kili-kili, and my eldest sister gazes sternly at the world without need for corrective lenses. Here is my tale, in ancient legend form:

The Legend of the Laser Princess

Thousands of years ago in the land of snow and wind, there lived a princess and her consort. The princess had been both blessed and cursed at birth with an abundance of long, silky black hair. On her head, the hair looked wonderful and earned her admiration from the peasants. But everywhere else, her plentiful follicles caused her to despair and wear frumpy clothes.

One day, the princess went walking along the street and saw a sign for the Cosmetic Laser Center Beautification Palace in the Thundering Sky. She consulted the mighty oracle Google for reviews of the place. After finding an aggregated five-star rating for the Palace, she went in for a consultation. The technician zapped a test patch off her left underarm, and instructed the princess to see what happened next. 

Several weeks passed, and the princess discovered that the test patch hairs had died. Joyfully, she returned to the Palace and went through a full session that lasted barely two minutes. Afterwards, the princess ignored the stinging sensations and celebrated with her famous Happy Wiggle Dance in the elevator.

As the elevator doors opened, light shone from the sky and a voice boomed that with all the laser treatment she was getting, the princess may be eligible to receive the title, “The Laser Princess.” The princess agreed with the voice, and looked forward to her next session, and to wearing slutty revealing clothes after completing her latest laser treatment. And everyone lived happily ever after.

This post brought to you by a foolishly unguarded sandwich right outside the elevators.

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