The Burn

Back in the 80s, feel the burn was the catch cry of Jane Fonda's workout video (probably on Beta). But before we went to America, I had my face lasered ('resurfacing' it's called) and man, talk about feel the burn!!!

My 'face' doctor offered me the treatment as he had the machine on loan - just his favourite clients he said - although if he inflicts this much pain on the people he likes I dread to think what the others are in for.

Having established some time ago that I'm an utter wimp when it comes to pain (I thought giving birth four times the natural way would have prepared me for any kind of physical agony - apparently not) the process started with me arriving at the salon on a Thursday night and having numbing cream applied to my face. Glad Wrap was pressed over the top (carefully positioned so I could indeed breathe) and then I had to sit amongst people having their hair done for half an hour while it took effect. I seriously would not have looked out of place in an episode of Dr Who.

Dignity now in disarray, it was time to get down to the main event. Plastic removed, laser machine on and a technique called 'stamping' where the laser burns deep and intense. It started off quite bearable as he attacked those 'problem areas' (ie most of my face). I had control of a vacuum hose thing that blew icy air and that I could direct to any areas of 'discomfort' (ie most of my face). Round One of stamping and I was okay. There was pain, but nothing drastic, that was still to come....

Round Two is allegedly a lower intensity and an overall smoothing out across the whole surface. Why the fuck then did this hurt so much more? Apparently because my deeper skin was already well heated and this was the metaphoric icing on the cake. No joke, there was the strong and distinct smell of burning flesh (at this point I'd like to apologise for my own stupidity to anyone who has ever witnessed or experienced a burn injury that wasn't self inflicted... you can slap me when I next get lasered... you could slap me now but it'll hurt more then and might knock some sense into me).

The last stages were excruciating and verging on an internal battle with myself to refrain from just getting the hell out of there. Anyway, after a lot of whinging on my behalf, it was finally over. Hallelujah!!!

But the pain did not stop there my friends, no it did not. It was like having extreme sunburn. As advised, I had taken Panadol prior to the treatment and looked forward to more when I got home. I drove with my face pressed against the driver side window, grateful for once for crappy Melbourne weather. Once home, I applied ice packs and I swear I heard them sizzle as I pressed them against my nuked skin.

(I was also slathering my face with Calm, by lqd and developed by my mate Anthony, you know, the beef burger, the guy in the fireman's overalls....anyway, he deserves a plug, it did help!)

The next day I had a meeting with a senior retailer. I'd agreed with Mands my business partner that if the damage was too great, I'd need to feign illness. He'd already had to reschedule because he was unwell so it was plausible. She sent me a text in the morning "Still got a face??" So helpful. As it so happened I did have a face - one that was bloody hot, but slightly glowing and just swollen enough to push out the major wrinkles. I didn't look too bad at all. The guy I was meeting with agreed. I'd like to kiss you (in a professional way! We're colleagues from years back) he said, but I've been sick, so best I don't. Yes, best he didn't! By this stage my face was like a furnace - so much so I had visions of him pressing his lips to my cheek only to have them sear on and him having to literally rip them off... awkward.

It was now Saturday. I woke up and could barely open my eyes. I was puffy and swollen and had eyes like the proverbial piss-holes in the snow. Oops. I started drinking coffee in the hope the caffeine would act like the diuretic it is and take the fluid off my face! Off to Pilate's and netball. I seriously looked odd. Sort of like me and sort of like an alien. I decided the best approach was honesty. 'Just had my face lasered,' I announced to anyone who looked at me with a raised eyebrow. I was surprised to discover how many women responded with, 'Oh I've had that before!'

Eventually the heat dissipated and the scales set in. It was dry, crusty and in some places, even a little bit of bleeding - but nothing a trowel of Maybelline Miracle Whip couldn't cover - as long as I applied my make up twice a day. This stage was meant to last about 6 days. In fact, it was closer to three weeks before all traces of scales had disappeared. But we were on holiday by then and the mandatory sunscreen to avoid any damage (ironic, isn't it?) helped as well.

So.... final verdict? Well, Elle, who's not lavish with her compliments conceded 'Your face does actually look better Mum'. I've certainly noticed the difference. But I'd hazard to guess most people haven't - and that's absolutely fine by me.