Remember when that was the cool thing to say? Like when someone got totally burned on something, you'd be all, "That was SUCH a FACIAL!" Like a noun version of "in your face!"
Or was that just something only said by someone attending a small high school in suburban Connecticut in the 80s?
Yeah, like you didn't have a mullet or wear legwarmers, either.
Anyway, today I had a facial with a small "f." My mother-in-law gave me a gift certificate to a local salon. I had originally had an appointment for today for a little thing I like to call Torture By Way of Hot Wax.
Instead, I decided to use the certificate for a facial. Running has not been kind to my skin. I have a small army of oil wells marching across my face, courtesy of rivers of sweat that have graced my face during and after every run.
And, in keeping with my tradition of excrutiating spa experiences - I LOVE me some deep tissue massage! - I made sure the facial was as painful as possible. I knew about the "extraction" but I was ever so over-the-moon when she put the flesh-eating mask on me!
Seriously. It was this pumpkin thingy that had some kind of dead-skin disolving enzymes that made it feel like tiny needles were pricking my skin. For about 10 minutes. I went to my Happy Place while she gave me a hand and foot massage, but I couldn't help snickering at how ridiculous I am.
RELAX! my inner voice shouted.
But no. Impossible.
So in essence, the Facial (capital 'F') was, in fact, on me!
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