In Which I Accidentally MicroDerm Abraded Myself For My Birthday
I am a huge purchaser of GroupOn services. I'm not a huge user of GroupOn experiences that I have already bought, but I totally appreciate the ability to impulse buy a service, such as an oil-change, facial, or massage - you know, things that aren't generally impulse buyable.
I currently have the following expired GroupOns:
(value never expires!)
Oil Change! Bought because it was close to my son's nursery school. Turns out, using that free hour to get an oil change never won over using that hour to take a nap. Always took a nap while he was at school then went to place down street for oil change with kids in tow. Turns out they love watching oil changes.
Stress Reducing Massage! Bought because it was near my house, but when I called to schedule it they talked me into going to their new downtown facility instead. Didn't mention the parking garage was scary and filled with probable serial killers instead of empty spaces. After finding not one space that my car could feasibly fit into, I left and never called again.
Pumpkin Latte Body Scrub! Bought to make my relaxation and well being a priority ( ! ) at 11 pm during PMS week two years ago. Never went. I feel a little awkward about calling them now.
60 Minute Facial with 30 Minute Massage! Bought while waiting in the car pickup line at the son's school because it was time to make my beauty and relaxation a priority! Oh, and I had my period, too. When I called to schedule I was flummoxed by the salon's insistence on only being available on days that were inconvenient.
So you can see why I banished myself from GroupOn. I'm just not good at it. However, I recently succumbed to just one more impulse GroupOn purchase.(Because it was my birthday coming up and time to make my beauty and relaxation a priority!) But it was at the salon I already use for my hair and it is practically walking distance from my house and it was 51% off. But this time, I scheduled an appointment before I clicked the "Buy Now" button. I ensured I could actually get an appointment at a convenient time before the money went flying out of my bank account. It was like learning was happening inside my brain.
I actually kept the appointment. I was in the midst of doing something else and not particularly in the mood to stop what I was doing but I made myself go anyway. I did the lay down on the table thing with a modicum of excitement, but it was quickly dashed. The aesthetician didn't use the nice warm steamer contraption and a lot of her mystery potions were cold. I hate cold things. I started thinking of all the things I wanted to do later and wondered what time it was and how much longer it would take.
Finally it was over, and oddly, the aesthetician handed me a mirror. I've never had anyone do that after a facial. Holy Crap! I looked five years younger! I no longer cared how long it took, how cold it was or even that I could no longer freely move my forehead. I no longer gave two shits about turning forty, because I no longer looked like I was turning forty.
This is tourmaline. (Thanks palagems for making the image available on the internet.) I have no idea how it comes into play in a tourmaline facial.
One Hour After Returning Home
I never understood why someone would ever get Botox. I mean, who knowingly goes in to get Botulism injected into their skin, rendering their face a frozen mask? Only crazy people who are afraid of aging gracefully, I always said. But, aging gracefully isn't something you can decide to do when you are 20 or even 30 with dewy skin that still knows the definition of elasticity. Sometimes, you get a little help in unexpected places. After seeing the results of my facial, I suddenly understood what the joy of anti-aging enhancement was all about.
You know what? I don't care if that aesthetician rubbed raccoon urine and the gorp from inside a jellyfish onto my skin. I am basking in the tightening effects and praying they last until next week. Oh, and if you were wondering, it's been an hour and I still look mahvahlous!
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By Rena Galanis