Ok, so visit número dos to the salon was for facial time. I was pretty excited. I scheduled it for Saturday morning when I’m usually cleaning the house. Instead of all that scrubbing, I left a ‘to do’ list for the kiddos and high tailed it put the door to be pampered.
When I got there, my esthetician, Sherri, took me back to a dimly lit room where soft music was playing and told me to take my clothes off. WHOA Sherri, we just met and I don’t play that way! (Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I still love Seinfeld!) Now, I’ve had a few massages before and I know most people swear by them, but I can not do the whole get naked with a stranger while they rub on you thing. It ain’t happening. I think she read my panic and explained it was really only necessary from the shoulders down for the oils and lotions and such. Ok, Sherri, but nothing in the swimsuit area, ok?
As the facial started, it was going fine. I really liked the soft music and someone else pampering me for awhile. I was beginning to think that I might make this a regular experience, clothes off and all…when it happened. Sherri popped a zit on my face. Hi, my name is Kerry, I’m 36, and my skin still breaks out occasionally. I was hoping, like most of us, that zits would end with the rest of the awkward adolescent phases, but hell no, they have decided to stick around through adulthood just to mess with us. It was a bad stress week at work and Nebraska humidity has hit full force, so those little pours are in full production mode. Now, I get that Sherri probably does this daily, hell, hourly. She works with the face, she knows better than anyone that zit happens, but I was mortified.
She finished the facial, and I got dressed. As I exited the room to leave, she, politely, explained to me some products I could use for breakouts and thanked me for coming it. It was hard to look her in the eyes. It was my own walk of shame.
Facial, schmacial….. I think I’ll just stick to the pedicures. Has it been four weeks yet?