Facials are delicious. I’ve only had a handful in my life, but I really do enjoy them. They feel great, smell good, and are relaxing.
I live next door to a salon that for the most part employs women of Eastern European descent and I love the woman who gives the facials. It’s like somehow she has all of this knowledge and secrets from the “old world”, and she has the ability to make me look 25 years younger. Well yeah, I can dream, can’t I?
One day I walked next door to get my facial. Shada (the Eastern European woman with all the beauty wisdom) welcomed me graciously like we were old friends (I love it when she does that). I took off my shirt and placed it on the chair as instructed, and laid down on the table for my hour of bliss.
The only problem I can sometimes have with a facial is if I am congested. I just hate if I can’t breathe out of my nose and am forced to breathe out of my mouth while someone is standing right over my face. Poor Shada! Then, the towels get wrapped around your face, and the only things that are exposed are your nostrils, and you are forced to breathe out of your nose. Now, that can cause me to panic a bit. It’s like claustrophobia in my own face.
But that day, I was breathing just fine, and the facial was dreamy. At the conclusion of the facial, Shada had left the room for me to get dressed. I shot up and went to get my shirt on.
You know how it is when you go to the doctor or for a massage or for anyplace where they tell you to disrobe and they will be right back? You undress like a bat out of hell just so they don’t catch you “in the act”. So, there is me, trying to get dressed like a madwoman, and you know how in a salon, the nail tech or masseuse or facial lady will have their credentials in a frame hanging on a wall? Yeah, well Shada has a LOT of credentials on her wall. Seriously, what a show-off. So, I am getting my shirt on as quickly as I can in this teeny tiny room, and my ape-like arms were flailing and I must have knocked down like four of Shada’s framed credentials. Crash! Bam! Boom! Down they all came, glass broken, me saying “oh shit, oh shit, oh shit”.
I did what I could to ‘clean up’ in the time allotted for me to get dressed (i.e. four seconds). I opened the door, and there were like 27 people standing there all worried that I had committed hari kari in the facial room (more like the size of a closet, hence it wasn’t my fault that there wasn’t enough room to get my shirt on).
Holy hell! That was the most embarrassing walk of shame ever! My entire walk out of the salon I kept having to say, “no really, I am ALL RIGHT”, while feeling like shit for ruining Shada’s bragging wall.
In retrospect, I don’t think this disaster was my fault at all. First, that room needed to be a LOT bigger. And second, Shada really shouldn’t need to brag so much.
very funny! I always get congested at a facial - I don't know why. Thanks for my laugh today!
ReplyDeleteOk, you know, that ain't too bad when it's put into the proper perspective. I used to work at a spa and we had to ask a client to not return after she repeatedly asked for a cup of water, drank it, and then urinated it and left it in the room for the massage therapist to dispose of. Personally, if I were a service provider, I'd rather deal with a bit of destruction to my bragging wall than someone's pee-cup. The way I see it, Shada got off easy.
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