I ran out of hair.

Remember how I was worried that I wouldn't have enough hair to fill up a five-hour zappy appointment because I'd scheduled two weekends in a row? Well, I didn't, not even including the first-ever-and-therefore-slowest pass over my chest and nipples.

Bad: Since I was done in four hours but had booked five, I felt honor-bound to pay for the hour since she couldn't exactly fill the slot with zero notice.

Good: I. Have. No. Hair. On. My. Face. Neck. Chest. Or. Nipples! None. Not one.

And yes, getting electrolysis around one's areolae does suck, but not as much as on the genitals, to say nothing of the upper lip. Despite completing dozens of passes across my upper lip, Ms. Zappy still makes my eyes water when she's working there, every time.

I have a five-hour appointment scheduled in two weeks, so we'll see just how fast I can grow it back. Ms. Zappy generously offered not to charge me for it if I fit in four hours again. In September, after a four-week hiatus for Burning Man, I have two four-hour appointments scheduled. We'll see how that works.

So, four per each of two visits in September, three in October, two in November? Wouldn't that be lovely? I don't want to do one-hour visits because her office is in Federal Way, which is a forty-five minute drive each way from the old place.

What will I do with all that time? Circumflatulate, of course.