Getting a Facial and Salvaging October
First of all, thank you all for your awesome support, again. I'm in awe and I feel like this has been a pity-me couple of weeks and I don't want it to be because I am usually stronger than this. But the hits have just been coming. And it all just piles up but I know it will get better. October is one of my favourite months and I can't let October 2013 be a failure so I have 15 more days to make it awesome. I am going balls to the walls and recapturing this month and making it awesome.
The list of "GAAAHS" is long and while I am still somewhat sick, I am ready to go out with a bang. The best part is that I know I will look back at this and laugh and twitch and who knows, maybe there is someone else who is going through what I am going through and my story can help. Or I can be a low rent chubby Erin Brokovich and fight the good fight against premature labelling. Yes? No?
Yesterday I had a facial scheduled. After the initial drama of the morning, I considered cancelling and instead pick up the habit of being a martyr and self-flagellation but that seems predictable and messy. So I went ahead with the facial. Now, I actually don't like the process of getting facials, or massages, or pedis and manis, I just like the end result. I headed to my favourite spa La Bonita which is close by and got ready for my Maria Galland facial.
I was ushered into a room and the woman asked me to remove my sweater and said "If you're cold, I can give you a blanket." I responded with "No thanks, I'm chubby so I'm always warm" to which she responded by just staring at me blankly. Time and place, Tova, time and place. I sat down and she started the process of smothering my face with goop. Everytime she went near my nostrils I held my breath because I have a fear of breathing too hard and catching her hand in a nostril air vacuum. I cannot relax when people are working on me. Next she did a peeling (she said it was an extra 8 euros and I liked that she told me that). Then she pulled over the steamer machine and blasted me for about 10 minutes while she most likely went on Facebook and wrote, "So this one customer has pores the size of Bolivia". In the interim, I spent my time under the steamer trying not to gag from the droplets of condensation pooling in my nose. At one point I quietly blew a few droplets out and then I wondered if it was snot and would she see it and then be disgusted... I cannot relax.
She came back, wiped me down and then got to the most terrible part of the facial - the zit popping. I don't know why I do this. I don't know why I put up with the pain? How does this tiny person exert so much pressure using tissue to pop stuff on my face that I never have even seen. And the noise, oh the noise. The only thing that got me through it was overhearing the receptionist on the phone: it pretty much went like this:
Receptionist: Bikini wax for Thursday 3 p.m......o.k.....how long is the hair? Mmmmh.... Do you want to come by tomorrow so we can all look at the length of the hair?
Some man's head just exploded. And I was happy for the distraction. After the painful zit popping, she started plucking my eyebrows. At one point she stopped and said "You have a hole." Now, my German's pretty awesome but I wasn't sure if I had misunderstood her or not. What do you mean a hole?!? Did you pop too hard? A hole? And then I realized she meant my eyebrow. I didn't have the heart to tell her of the shaving accident of 2011. I thought it would have all grown back by now.
After the plucking she did a creamy massage that also involved my decollettee. She massaged above the boobsicles and I tried to keep my poker face and look, with my eyes closed, like it is totally normal for her to be going for second base. After the whole massage and creams and wiping down, she sent me on my way and I tipped her very well to make up for the hamster squeaks of pain I made during the zit popping. She seemed pleased or inside she felt like a whore. I don't know. I don't care.
I feel cleaner, somewhat. I feel like it is time to take back this month and to get back into control. I have written some people of expertise to get the ball rolling on the Kid diagnosis. Whatever happens happens but one of the best parts is knowing I've got a football team of supporters behind me. Thank you!
The list of "GAAAHS" is long and while I am still somewhat sick, I am ready to go out with a bang. The best part is that I know I will look back at this and laugh and twitch and who knows, maybe there is someone else who is going through what I am going through and my story can help. Or I can be a low rent chubby Erin Brokovich and fight the good fight against premature labelling. Yes? No?
Yesterday I had a facial scheduled. After the initial drama of the morning, I considered cancelling and instead pick up the habit of being a martyr and self-flagellation but that seems predictable and messy. So I went ahead with the facial. Now, I actually don't like the process of getting facials, or massages, or pedis and manis, I just like the end result. I headed to my favourite spa La Bonita which is close by and got ready for my Maria Galland facial.
I was ushered into a room and the woman asked me to remove my sweater and said "If you're cold, I can give you a blanket." I responded with "No thanks, I'm chubby so I'm always warm" to which she responded by just staring at me blankly. Time and place, Tova, time and place. I sat down and she started the process of smothering my face with goop. Everytime she went near my nostrils I held my breath because I have a fear of breathing too hard and catching her hand in a nostril air vacuum. I cannot relax when people are working on me. Next she did a peeling (she said it was an extra 8 euros and I liked that she told me that). Then she pulled over the steamer machine and blasted me for about 10 minutes while she most likely went on Facebook and wrote, "So this one customer has pores the size of Bolivia". In the interim, I spent my time under the steamer trying not to gag from the droplets of condensation pooling in my nose. At one point I quietly blew a few droplets out and then I wondered if it was snot and would she see it and then be disgusted... I cannot relax.
She came back, wiped me down and then got to the most terrible part of the facial - the zit popping. I don't know why I do this. I don't know why I put up with the pain? How does this tiny person exert so much pressure using tissue to pop stuff on my face that I never have even seen. And the noise, oh the noise. The only thing that got me through it was overhearing the receptionist on the phone: it pretty much went like this:
Receptionist: Bikini wax for Thursday 3 p.m......o.k.....how long is the hair? Mmmmh.... Do you want to come by tomorrow so we can all look at the length of the hair?
Some man's head just exploded. And I was happy for the distraction. After the painful zit popping, she started plucking my eyebrows. At one point she stopped and said "You have a hole." Now, my German's pretty awesome but I wasn't sure if I had misunderstood her or not. What do you mean a hole?!? Did you pop too hard? A hole? And then I realized she meant my eyebrow. I didn't have the heart to tell her of the shaving accident of 2011. I thought it would have all grown back by now.
After the plucking she did a creamy massage that also involved my decollettee. She massaged above the boobsicles and I tried to keep my poker face and look, with my eyes closed, like it is totally normal for her to be going for second base. After the whole massage and creams and wiping down, she sent me on my way and I tipped her very well to make up for the hamster squeaks of pain I made during the zit popping. She seemed pleased or inside she felt like a whore. I don't know. I don't care.
I feel cleaner, somewhat. I feel like it is time to take back this month and to get back into control. I have written some people of expertise to get the ball rolling on the Kid diagnosis. Whatever happens happens but one of the best parts is knowing I've got a football team of supporters behind me. Thank you!
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