In a quest for beauty

I am writing this while I lie in bed, nursing my wounds. I have some serious burn blisters, and the pain is so intense, so deep to my core, that I am actually nauseous. God help me if I get a quick glimpse at the actual injury - I'll lose it for sure.

Call it what you will: yoni, hoo hoo, privates, bagina, cooter (my personal fave) I done burned my bits off.

I can't even believe I participated in the excruciating, sadistic procedure of my own free will. I lay there, on a table, with my legs spread "froggy style" as directed, and allowed someone to burn the hair off my genitals (and take a good amount of flesh along with it) just so that I could have a clean bikini line.

A bikini line that is now rocking some really lovely blisters, and scorched hair follicles.

The dermatologist is enthusiastic about her work - I will give her that.

"Can you smell the hair burning ? That means it's WORKING!" she chirped, as I cringed and gasped and clutched at my chest.

"OK, business as usual" she announced as I gingerly lifted myself off the table and surveyed the carnage.

Lady, I don't know what your business looks like - but mine is definitely not "as usual".

"What should I do with this ?" I asked, gesturing vaguely at the afflicted area.
"Oh, just wash it with your hand - a washcloth might be ouchie" she solemnly informed me.

I am way beyond "ouchie". I almost threw up out my car window several times on the drive home. It took all of my willpower to not clutch at my crotch. As soon as i got in the door, I ripped off my underwear and started frantically smearing Neosporin on the injuries. I don't know if it is helping, but it was worth a shot.

Pray for me. Pray for me and my poor, poor cooter.