Today I spent my birthday money - thank you Trip and Lori - and got a facial. Last year about this time I had a thirty minute one, and the pleasure from it was much too brief. Because of a coupon for a new place, today I got a full hour. It was spent lying supine on a warm narrow bed in a dark room while a young girl fresh from aesthetic school applied and removed many layers of liquids, gels and creams. I don't need to know what they were, but my face now feels as soft as a baby's bottom.
As requested I arrived early for the appointment so I would have time to fill out a form about my overall health, which is thankfully boring. Next I was asked how I care for my skin. My answer was a winner as I told her I have never gone to bed with an unwashed face, and that I am perfectly satisfied with my long lasting five dollar jar of St. Ives moisturizer. Then she asked what my concerns were and I simply answered, "That you know what you're doing?" The relaxing music started, and after the initial cleansing and steaming, she covered my eyes so I wouldn't be so bothered by the bright exam light she was shining on my skin. Then she began to pinch. Tweezers. She said she was "Just hitting the high spots." I thanked her for taking care of the scourge of the sixty-something woman. She said she couldn't get them all, that it would take too long and run over our time. All in all it was great, especially to have someone else take care of me for a full hour.