The Worm and I

Skepticism is not overrated. In fact, it ranks up there with breathing and not walking in front of trains when it comes to self-preservation.

For the record, I am a life-long skeptic.

I’m a skeptic, dammit. I don’t order diet pills or vitamins. I don’t even listen to AM radio.  

I just don’t do these things.

Liposonix. Non-invasive weight loss. No diets. No exercise. No way. Who buys that kind of malarkey?

Apparently, me.

It doesn’t hurt… that bad. It’s just a little burn.

Bull shit. It’s a little bit of a burn like when I put the cattle prod on my own foot and pulled the trigger. Yeah. That’s what it’s like. I raised a finger, signaling for the technician to pause in her torture before I twitched off the table like a fish flopping on the shore.

I drew a shaky breath. I don’t think this is going to work for me.

She actually seemed surprised. Clearly, she has not sampled the wares. Why not?

Because if you touch me with that thing again, I’m going to have to kill you.

Either the conviction in my voice or the drool dripping from my chin convinced her. Oh. Okay. Hmm.

I laid my forehead on my folded arms and felt the electricity leaving my body in jaggedy sparks. Holy hellfire it hurt.

You could try the coolsculpt.

What’s that?

It freezes the fat and explodes the fat cells.

Exploding fat cells works for me. I only have this one day off and I am already here, already on the table…already have the squares mapped off on my flanks like a Google grid. If at first you don’t succeed, try something else. That’s how I roll.

She scooted the machine over to me and drew out one long hose. I tried hard not to think of how much it looked like an alien worm, with its fat gaping mouth as she prepared my flesh for the suction cup. The worm pressed its lips to my flanks and began to inhale. I had to look away. It was just … wrong.

The technician asked me if it hurt. I shook my head and put in my earbuds, cranking up Joss Stone. After near electrocution and setting myself on fire, pain was relative. She dimmed the lights and left the room. One hour later, she was back and prying the worm off of my butt. I made the mistake of looking over my shoulder. 

For real. 

For real, there was a stick of butter beneath my skin. Frozen butter. Technician began to knead. The tickling sensation was unbearable. I pressed my face into the towel and banged my fist into the table, giggling like a sugared up five year old.

Roll. Reattach the worm on the other side. Repeat.

I woke up this morning and prayed no accident befell me on the way to work, lest I end up in the hospital. Because I’m not sure they’d believe THAT is how I got two giant hickeys on my ass. 

It can take up to 12 weeks to see the results. At that point, I'm supposed to be so impressed I will want to suffer through another session.

I am... skeptical.