Spring Cleaning
This past weekend I got a facial from a woman who came highly recommended. I didn’t realize that pain was her specialty when I made the appointment. I’ve bitched here before about how much I hate my skin. I always enjoy the feeling of giving someone money to insult me and inflict bodily harm though. She confirmed that my skin is indeed fucked, and that it’s all due to my diet. Something about being acidic plus a long lecture about how the world will someday end due to the imbalance of Omega 3’s vs. Omega 6’s. I just nodded because I couldn’t tell you what an Omega was, except that I think it’s a model of car that Oldsmobile used to manufacture.
Up until Saturday, I’d had 2 facials in my life. Both lasted an hour and both left me bitterly disappointed. This facial lasted 4 hours. FOUR. I think at least one entire hour was devoted to leaning over boiling water which may or may not have contributed to what feels like a pulled muscle in my bum.
After every pore was squeezed and I was duped into buying a bunch of skincare products that I will no doubt use for all of one week, I was allowed to leave. I left with that punched-in-the-gut feeling I get when I just spent way too much money, when I should have just said no. I’m getting better about being a people pleaser, but it’s still something I hate about me.
The only way I’m now consoled is that I truly have no clogged pores or blackheads. It’s stupendous. I’ll even go so far as to say that it was worth the whole ordeal. She wants me to come back every 6 weeks, but I can say with great certainty that that’s never going to happen.
After the ordeal, I went to a little restaurant in the same building with the hopes of replenishing all the fluids I’d lost while steaming for an hour. Das Tormenter came into the restaurant too because apparently gouging people really works up an appetite. She reminded me in front of the counter person that I wasn’t supposed to eat bread. I ordered something breadless and got the hell out of there because I didn’t have the strength or the will to disobey her. As I was leaving I heard her telling complete strangers her theory about the Omegas.
Oh, and I cleaned out my email inbox. No emails to return, nothing to record on my calendar. It is joyous. We’ll see how long it lasts.
Pores and email are the extent of my Spring cleaning this year. Enjoy flipping your mattresses and dusting your air conditioning vents. I’ll be over here looking at myself in the mirror and giggling at my empty mailbox.
Up until Saturday, I’d had 2 facials in my life. Both lasted an hour and both left me bitterly disappointed. This facial lasted 4 hours. FOUR. I think at least one entire hour was devoted to leaning over boiling water which may or may not have contributed to what feels like a pulled muscle in my bum.
After every pore was squeezed and I was duped into buying a bunch of skincare products that I will no doubt use for all of one week, I was allowed to leave. I left with that punched-in-the-gut feeling I get when I just spent way too much money, when I should have just said no. I’m getting better about being a people pleaser, but it’s still something I hate about me.
The only way I’m now consoled is that I truly have no clogged pores or blackheads. It’s stupendous. I’ll even go so far as to say that it was worth the whole ordeal. She wants me to come back every 6 weeks, but I can say with great certainty that that’s never going to happen.
After the ordeal, I went to a little restaurant in the same building with the hopes of replenishing all the fluids I’d lost while steaming for an hour. Das Tormenter came into the restaurant too because apparently gouging people really works up an appetite. She reminded me in front of the counter person that I wasn’t supposed to eat bread. I ordered something breadless and got the hell out of there because I didn’t have the strength or the will to disobey her. As I was leaving I heard her telling complete strangers her theory about the Omegas.
Oh, and I cleaned out my email inbox. No emails to return, nothing to record on my calendar. It is joyous. We’ll see how long it lasts.
Pores and email are the extent of my Spring cleaning this year. Enjoy flipping your mattresses and dusting your air conditioning vents. I’ll be over here looking at myself in the mirror and giggling at my empty mailbox.
posted by Cory at 12:38 PM
6 Comments:
I've never heard of a 4 hour facial before! I hope it ends up being worth your time, but I can't say I blame you for not wanting to go back.
NnnnnnnnnnYES! I'll take it! I'll take the soup with the side of beef in it! Hell, throw in some Clinique blush while you're at it! You made me think of that lunch with Steve during summer-school-india-dot-aga-got-run-over-by-a-trolley-Mr.-Devine-math-hell.
Oh, and here's a little known spring cleaning tidbit...did you know that after 10 years, 1/2 the weight of a mattress is (are?) dust mites and their feces? So flip carefully boys and girls...don't want that feces flying through the air.
That woman sounds like a freak, but at least your pores are sparkly clean now!
I'm taking advantage of my pregnant state and letting Stephen do any major spring cleaning...gotta love a man who isn't afraid of a little Comet!
That's some serious Spring cleaning! Ouch.
What's the deal with bread? You deserved some after that ordeal. I hope it lasts longer than six weeks too!
Use the tea tree foaming wash from The body shop-it's only $10 and keeps blackheads and bacteria at bay.
Ok, enough enjoying your unclogged pores and your empty inbox (which, I've been trying to refill for you) and update please.
Ha ha. You really wound up with the Helga of facialists. (What are those women called?) I tried a facial last year and although I did walk away with blemish-free skin, the whole experience freaked me out so badly that I jumped whenever anyone gestured near my face or head. It simply wasn't worth the after-horrors.
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