Two reasons I feel lucky:
- Due to a quirk of scheduling, I woke up yesterday to a view of the Rocky Mountains (Pike’s Peak to be particular) and I’m going to bed tonight with a long-distance view of the Appalachian Mountains. Oh, this great country is never so majestic as it is from the windows of an airplane or (and, actually) an automobile.
- I didn’t know what “my first facial” was a euphemism for until I Googled in preparation for this post. Really! The internet is a cesspool!
Despite having lived in this skin 48 years and spending the past decade lamenting my wrinkles, I enjoyed my first facial last week (a cosmetic facial — with an esthetician for those of you with your minds in the gutter) while on a trip to Colorado Springs. I came by this experience completely by no effort on my part; it was part of the trip package earned by my Beloved for selling insurance. Lots of insurance.
In a previous career as a member of corporate staff, I occasionally enjoyed similar decadent incentive trips (the stellar sellers back then weren’t selling insurance — they were selling scrapbooks or food mixes). Ironically, one of those trips was a jaunt to Colorado in June, too, only there were no spa passes on that visit!
If you’ve never enjoyed a facial, I suggest you add this to your Christmas wish list. Here’s how mine went down:
First, I enjoyed the amenities only spa guests get the opportunity to luxuriate in: the whirlpool, the pool, the sauna, the oxygen room, the shower and the waiting room with expansive mountain views and my choice of cucumber water or lemon water (cucumber water, please).
Then I met Edwina. After I told her it was my first facial (I wonder if she’s Urban Dictionary-ed that phrase), she thoroughly explained what I was in for and we got started.
She tilted my chair, and the blood rushed to my face (this was a good feeling). A little aromatherapy “calmed and grounded my body.” Mm. She washed my face, and the sponge in her hands was exactly like getting my hair washed at the hair salon. I was in awe at how a simple, even boring procedure practiced by myself was a whole explosion of feel-good energy when performed by someone else. Ahh.
Then she triple-exfoliated my skin. That means she used an exfoliating cleanser, then a chemical exfoliation, then a pumpkin enzyme peel. These were not ooh-and-ahh experiences (but they weren’t painful either — Edwina’s fingers were like tiny dancers on my face). Apparently, exfoliations 2 and 3 “munched away all the dead skin” on my face. Forty-eight years worth of dead skin, baby!
Extraction time. I was looking forward to this because there was a bump above my eyebrow that refuses to go away. Alas, Edwina had no luck either. She diagnosed it as a collagen bump (only she didn’t say “bump” — as soon as she said “collagen,” my brain blacked out — not more age-related collagen problems!). She couldn’t find anything else to extract and proclaimed that whatever I’ve been doing to my skin, I should keep doing it.
Edwina then applied a mask to “tighten and firm” (maybe I should have had a triple-treatment of that!) and while it was tightening and firming, she massaged my scalp and my hands. More mm.
When I was done, my skin was as smooth as it’s been in 48 years, and that’s saying something. Of course, to look at me, you wouldn’t know I’d ever met Edwina. And now, four days later, my skin has pretty much the same texture as it did pre-facial. So if I was spending my own money, well, I’m not sure I’d spend the money to look younger. But if you could use some oohs and aahs, a facial (the cosmetic kind) might be a good option for you.