I've never been to a buddhist monastery. I have never "seen the light". I however, have had a moment of illumination in a reclining chair at my skin care appointment. More so humbling than illuminating though, mostly because it was scary as hell.
I hadn't been there for a facial in over a year, so I decided to make an appointment bright an early and there I was enjoying the warm steam opening my pores. Suddenly I feel a sting. Turns out she was using a needle to open some skin. Ok, no biggie, I'm tattooed, I can take this like the macho woman I am. Next a cleanser, nice. Then a weird electrical sound. What in the holy hell?!
I can't open my eyes because I have some sort of green goo on my face and a pair of cotton rounds soaked in some blue liquid on my eyes (I know this because I caught a glimpse before I was forced to shut them and keep them that way). So all that's left for me to do is wiggle nervously a bit and ask in what I'm sure was a panicked tone of voice: "What is that?".
"Just something to close the pores and make the skin prettier". Ma'am I am not 5. I WILL take that lollypop but that's because i want one. However, your explanation of what that horrendous noise was isn't exactly what you'd call professional talk. I ask "Is it gonna hurt?". No, it'll just tingle a bit she says. Ok, a tingle, I can take that too! God, I'm one tough cookie.
And then came the "tingle". If that's what tingly feels like I'm definitely not a fan anymore. It felt more like a dozen Australian spiders crawling on my skin and occasionally zapping me. Yes, that's right, spiders with lasers. I should mention I have metal on my face, which I'm not exactly sure if is conductive at the moment since I'm freaking out at the laser zapping spiders.
Ouch. Yup, it's conductive alright. Um, ma'am? That hurt. "Oh of course it didn't hurt, it's just to make you pretty!". Ok, one: I am fucking pretty already (don't mess with my self esteem woman!) and two: I don't think you were the one being electrocuted in the face, so I don't think you can attest to it NOT hurting.
I suck it up, clench my teeth, sink my nails on the rubber covered chair and start counting. I count when I'm nervous. Yes, I am insane.
It's over, now we wait with the green goo drying up on me. This could be part of some horror movie, not sure which but I'm sure the leading lady doesn't make it. Even the music is torture, relaxing: my ass!
They clean me up, a little massage (ok, I admit that feels good) and out the door I go. I can't believe we pay for this stuff.
Once in my car, trembling like a leaf, with my face looking like I was beat up by a pack of rabid wolverines I realize: that's one of the scariest things I've ever been through. I had to trust a broad with electrical instruments around my cute little visage (no matter what she says, I'm pretty goddamit!) while my eyes were closed shut. I had no idea what the hell was going on around me, I had no control over what she was doing to me and I still sat back and endured it.
Now I remember WHY I don't do this more often.
Yup.
♥
Mena
