Sometimes Mistakes Are Painful and Expensive: Part One

A year and a half ago I was having an identity crisis. I call them existential crises because I like the film "I Heart Huckabees" and it makes me feel smart, it has very little if anything to do with actual existentialism. Every few years I freak out about getting older, loosing my edge, or whatever is plaguing my mind that day and do something stupid.  I worry someday I will be "that lady." Every girl knows who that lady is, even though she is different to every girl, it's our worst nightmare. That lady is someone we have seen at one point in our life and said "Dear God, please do not ever let me be like her." My lady is some variation of this really boring, bitchy person who doesn't ever do anything exciting, wears Ugg boots and Juicy track suits, only watches shows on CBS, always looks like shit even though she wears designer clothes, hisses every time she says a word ending in S and all she ever does is talk about her kidsssss.

Sometimes these aforementioned crises are simple and result in a few new clothes or a haircut, easy fix. Then there are times when I go completely insane and end up with a huge tattoo of California on my forearm to cover up Chinese characters that I got during another crisis.

Before you go all Zach Dela Rocha on me

Just so I don't come across as one of those people who turns anti tattoo once she grows up and gets married, I think tattoos are awesome and have sat in the chair a total of three times, I regret two of those times. I love my tattoo Lola, she is a fat girl dressed like a bee on my back, if I move my shoulder around I can make her dance. I am Pete, she is Petunia and therefore it is the best tattoo in the world, if you don't get the reference, figure it out.

Anyways, the minute I got the California tattoo I regretted it. Gorgeous George, the artist who did it did a GREAT job but I just think it is ugly and looks like a big black birthmark, my fault, not his. I had several panic attacks for months, silent treatment from my boo for days, parents called screaming at me and haven't been able to go into my grandparent's house without a long sleeve shirt because I will be disowned if they see it. Luckily I run warm and they keep their house at a stifling temperature and it is always packed with people.

It really does

So anyway a few months ago I made the appointment to get the golden state removed from my arm. I really didn't tell a lot of people because sometimes, people just need to mind their business. Instead I thought I would just blog about it. So here is part one.

False Start

Late last year I made an appointment to get a consultation at this plastic surgeons office in Stockton. This place was really skeezy. It was clean but not really clean,  a woman was obsessing about getting a boob and nose job, they were playing this really somber chamber music and the doctors assistant gave me a flyer for a party where they were raffling off free liposuction treatments "not that I needed it, hee hee."  Maybe it was the music, maybe it was the lipo lotto but my mind began to wander, it all felt very "Eyes Wide Shut" to me. Then I got a panic attack  and ran out. No seriously, I literally ran out of the office, past a duck pond and into my car. 

Session One

After my debacle mentioned above I did more research and found a Dermatologist in Lodi named Dr. Khourdaji. Dr. Khoudaji is a pretty nice man and he looks like and Indian Abe Vigota, if you don't know who he is Google that shit. His office was pretty tidy, they were playing light rock on the radio and instead of wanna be barbies, I was surrounded by old people with psoriasis which for some reason, wasn't as bad. Once I got in to see the Doctor he measured my tattoo, took pictures of it and had his assistant go start up the laser. Anything he said after that was lost to me because I kept picturing him as Dr. Evil using air quotes every time he said laser.

Meditations While Being Shot With a Laser

We walked into the room with the MedLite "laser" and at this point I am nervous because although I handle pain well, the thought of it gives me anxiety. The machine itself is no joke, it is the size of a medium generator and needs a key to start it up. Yeah, you read that right, a key like what you use to start a car. You'd think that an advanced machinery invented to erase Captain Morgan tributes and tribal band mistakes would have come with a switch or something.  So Dr. Evil Vigota puts these goggles on me and makes the assistant do the same. I am trying to escape to my happy place when he grabs my arm for the first zap. Now before I go into what it feels like, which is all anyone wants to know I have to mention that instead of going to my happy place all I could think of was the song N***as in Paris by Kanye West and Jay Z. Maybe it was because all I could think to myself was "that shit cray."

The Big Reveal

If you want to know what it feels like to have a tattoo removed get a thin yet sturdy rubber band. Once you have this get a strong friend who kind of hates you to pull it really, really tight and then snap you with it repeatedly where your tattoo is for about five minutes. Does it hurt? The answer is yes, it hurts slightly more than getting a tattoo but it doesn't last as long, so I'd say it is about a push as far as pain goes. When it was over it looked as if someone had taken a small white paintbrush and made swirls in my tattoo ink. I wish I had taken a picture right there, but I didn't have my phone on me, next time I will. I was told to ice it for most of the day and to come see him in a month. Below I have included some pictures of the healing process. 

Before the treatment

One day later

Week 3

Week 4

The Healing Process

 One thing that did surprise me about this whole thing was that the healing process for tattoo removal is almost exactly like the healing process when getting a tattoo. 

Stage 1: Swollen and tender

Stage 2: Itches so bad you want to bite your arm off

Stage 3: Flakey and gross

Stage 4: Skin looks like the skin of a woman who tans way too much

Stage 5: Okay, it almost looks good now

I now sit here, one session down, who knows how many more to go. I go back for my second treatment next Monday and I wonder what kind of strange shit will pop into my mind then.

 If you would like me to chronicle the rest of the removal let me know, even though I am pretty sure my mom is the only one who reads this thing.