Ah, the joys of electrolysis ...
Having a sharp needle stuck into every follicle of your face and having a couple 'o hundred volts of white hot electrical energy pulsed into it. Withdraw. Repeat.
Yay.
This morning, I have an uncanny resemblance to one of those little fish that puff up when they're scared. Blue puffers or whatever they're called. My electrologist, Sara, went at it hammer and tongs yesterday, which is a good thing ... but I still look like a blowfish! Aaargh! It's quite funny really ... actually no, it's really not.
And yet, here I sit, already eagerly awaiting next week's appointment, carefully poring over my budget to see if I can squeeze an extra 15 minutes in here or there. If transition doesn't turn me into a masochist, I don't know what will. At least I am in the right town for it: London has quite a few ... alternative clubs ... >

I just hope the swelling goes down by tomorrow. I mean, the 'acne' excuse just isn't gonna fly, methinks. I'll be defrosting a bag of peas after my shower this morning.
So, any advice, suggestions? Or for that matter wanna share your own experiences at this most pleasant of transitionary pursuits?
And no. There won't be pictures. I have some pride.