In my quest to somewhat manage my life stress, I pay a monthly fee to get a massage every month. And because life is the usual chaos, I have neglected to even get that done for a good few months. So I accumulate the services until they are used.
This vacation, my husband has been after me to make good on the money I am wasting. Being the nice wife I am, I will not point out that he too does this with the gym.
Yeah, we both need to get it together.
There were no appointments for massages the day I called to see if I could get a last minute appointment but there was one for a facial. “Sign me up”, I told the person on the phone. It sounded like fun. I never had one before.
That’s the last time I make an appointment after a few vacation mimosas.
When I arrived, there were many questions for me. I have not felt this old since the makeup lesson which you can read about here.
What kind of skin do I have?
I said combination because I read that somewhere on a product before. It sounded good.
How often do I exfoliate?
I admitted I didn’t even really know what that meant. This clearly was not the answer she was looking for.
The facial person instructed me to take off my top and put on some towel gown. I thought I was there for a facial but I went with it. Five minutes later, she returned and told me I had it all wrong since I had it on like I was getting a haircut. Apparently it is a towel gown because you are supposed to wrap it around you like a towel.
Take two on that one.
Finally after I figured out the crazy towel wrap, she turned on the brightest light and started to comment on all things about my skin. I am happy to report that whatever skin elasticity is, mine is good.
The next few minutes I came to realize I don’t like anyone touching my face. She put some kind of steamer that had so much hot air coming at me, I thought I was having my first hot flash.
Then the not so fun stuff began… extractions.
Yes. Extractions. That’s what she called it. And 43 year old me felt like a teenager back in the dermatologist office getting all the blackheads taken care of. I can’t even believe I am writing this. I probably should be mortified but I am too old to care.
This was not very relaxing at all.
At the end, she put some kind of hydration stuff on, followed by some other serum stuff, followed by who knows what, then SPF. Never mind that the weather had been rainy with thunderstorms all day. Have to be protected.
Is it crazy that I thought a facial was just a fancy mud mask that would make me look like I was in my twenties again?
Don’t answer that.
We walked out while she told me everything that my skin needed and showed me all the products that would probably only cost half my salary. No seriously. I am a teacher. Half.
My husband swears he can see a difference but I am not convinced.
The person said if I keep doing all that I am supposed to and get a hundred more facials, I should be good.
I made an appointment for a massage.
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