I somehow received a free gift certificate to a skin care spa. I decided to use it today on a facial. If you have never had a facial before, please don’t let the soothing spa atmosphere fool you: it is no gentle ride through the good night. There’s this thing called extractions and they basically pummel your face into submission so you wind up ending up looking like a blotchy mess who has probably been crying for an hour straight. That’s an exaggeration. In fact, you’ve probably only been crying only for a half hour straight as they systematically beat your skin to get rid of all the crap that has been clogging your pores for the past year or so.
At one point, the lady, who we will call Monica (because that’s her name), was working aggressively on my nose. She was pulling it and twisting it and pinching it in every direction. Tears were welling up in my eyes, but I utilized the strategy I call, “Never let the dentist see your pain.” After awhile, Monica paused. “Did you get a nose job?”
I have never been asked this before, probably because my nose is no great thing of beauty, it is just a nose, but I like it okay and I think it does a fine job, all things considered.
“No, no nose job.,” I said.
“Oh, good,” she said. “I heard a crack and I didn’t want to break your nose twice.”
AND THAT’S THE STORY OF MY FACIAL, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!
