I was drawing a blank as to what to write about for my new blog when I went to the spa for a facial. Now I have to preface this by saying, this is a first time experience. Having never been what you could call a "girly-girl," I have never had spa days. I've never had facials, nail appointments, massages, or any of the other spa services. I am lucky to get my hair cut once or twice a year, and only that because eventually the ponytail gets too heavy and starts to pull on my brain. For whatever reason, I am the mother to a girly-girl. She loves spas and all they entail. For that reason she became an esthetician. And I have to say she loves her profession and is exceedingly good at it. I arrived at the spa and had a short wait before being led back into a room that told me rather quickly that I was WAY out of my league here. A tomboy should never enter such a frou-frou space. But, fully intending to enjoy the experience (no matter how much every nerve in me screamed the opposite) and also to support my daughter's chosen profession, I was determined to stick it out. She came into the room and explained to me that I was to disrobe as much as I was comfortable with. I was wearing sweats and a long sleeved T-shirt, feeling pretty comfy already, no need to remove anything- and besides, am I getting an examination here, too??? What the heck did I sign up for??? I mean, I didn't remember checking the box for breast exam or scoliosis testing.... Okay, my heart rate was now double time.
"Take off my clothes?" I squawked. She proceeded to explain that most clients disrobed and wore a robe, but if I was more comfortable I could wear my sweats and maybe remove my shoes and disrobe from the waist up.
I needed further explanation. (I wonder if she's ever had a client so difficult before me?) "I'm getting a facial," I explained. "I thought that took place in kind of the face area. Already undressed. Ready to go. No false beard. No sunglasses. Let's get to it."
She took a deep breath, (I'm fairly certain it's the same one I used when she was a child and I was trying not to lose my temper with her. I wonder where she learned it from?) She explained part of the procedure was a shoulder rub (I'm in!) and something about the décolletage.
She left the room while I prepared myself, climbed into the pre-warmed table/bed, and awaited the fabulousness I was about to receive. She returned, dimmed the lights, and what followed was one of the most gloriously relaxing half hours I have EVER in my life experienced. I can tell you that I NEVER expected it to be so wonderful. I thoroughly enjoyed myself.
I laid there, cocooned in the wonderfully warm blankets while she applied various creams and cleansers (all for sensitive skin and hypo-allergenic since I have very sensitive skin). They felt amazing. We chatted a bit about the subject for my blog, and I told her that I was very much stuck for ideas and that I was leaning on her heavily for some new ones. She mentioned that she had several, and the conversation just sort of died off as I fell into the coma of relaxation she was providing. Before I knew it, it was over. And I was disappointed.
I dressed, somewhat dejectedly. And my daughter had to have noticed that dejection when I exited the room because she said, "So maybe for Mother's Day I could give you a one hour facial as a present." I couldn't say yes fast enough.
I returned home and went to bed early since I wasn't feeling altogether well, fighting off a cold as I was. Somewhere around three in the morning, I remember waking up because I was scratching my jaw and something wet was coming off under my nails. I was tired so I stayed in bed and continued to sleep. Repeatedly, through out the night, I woke up scratching various parts of my face and neck. Finally, morning came and I dragged myself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. The face I met in the mirror was not the one I remembered seeing the night before. It was more like a cross between Quasimoto and the Phantom of the Opera. The right side of my face was swollen and pulling down the corner of my eye and mouth. My entire face was a plethora of pus seeping sores mixed with a red bumpy rash, which led down my neck and into my décolletage. OMG! Did this really just happen??? I went for pampering and got a diaper rash.
My daughter, who had spent the night, was in the kitchen. I hurried to her to show her what had happened, after which I headed to the doctor's office to load up on steroids and anti-histamines.
Needless to say, I will NOT be getting a one hour facial for Mother's Day.
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