It seems to strange to say it, but when I was a teenager and my face had an over-abundance of oil - those were truly the good old days (at least facially speaking). I'd gladly take over-active sebaceous glands and all that comes with them than the dry skin I've suffered with this winter. I actually just found myself adding oil to my face just so I could smile without cracking open. Earlier today though my cheeks looked like an elephant's skin and felt like I had run sandpaper over them. I didn't even realize how bad my face was until today after work. I was in my car on my way to Sunsera and the warm dry air from the heater was swirling around and I could feel my face getting more and more dry, and that meant with each passing minute my face would sting worse and worse. I didn't even care about getting my eyebrows waxed anymore, my only motivation for getting to the salon was that I was fantasizing about meeting the aesthetician, having her notice my dry skin and offer me some lotion. I kept re-envisioning this possible event in my mind as if the repetition would somehow help will it into actually happening.
Vanity is funny. My face was already red and irritated, but I know that while rubbing lotion onto my cheeks may soothe them, it usually makes them even more red. So even though I was sitting in the waiting area and was within reach of literally hundred of bottles of creams and lotions, I didn't go looking for testers because I was afraid that the aesthetician would come get me right after I applied the lotion and I'd look not only even more red but also greasy. So instead of relieving my pain I just sat there trying to forget about it, and within a few minutes I had a really good reason to forget about it...
The aesthetician came walking down the hallway, and since I was the only person in the waiting area I knew she was coming for me. I didn't want her to be coming for me though because as soon as I saw her I became very worried. We made eye contact and she gave me a look that meant "are you Sarah?" but I didn't acknowledge it because in my mind I interpreted it as "are you a dude?" She broke the silence with "Are you Sarah?" I said I was, and I stood up to reluctantly follow her into the back rooms of the salon. It isn't that I doubted her skill. After all, when I saw her face to face, her eyebrows looked painstaking cared for. There was not a stray hair to be seen, the edges were razor sharp, and the arches were perfectly smooth. The only problem was that this woman had professionally waxed and plucked herself into a permanent expression of surprise! If she had done that to herself, what might she do to me?
She took me into a very comfortable feeling room and asked me to lay down. The bed looked like a gurney straight out of the morgue that had been covered with towels and sheets. Despite this the room was so cozy I could have fallen asleep in seconds had I not been worried I would soon be walking out with a dark brown version of a McDonald's sign on my forehead. She turned a lamp on and pointed it at my face. I closed my eyes and she brushed back my hair and said "Oh my, your face is very dry." I agreed with her that it truly, truly was very, very dry and she came back with "We have an excellent lotion for dry skin...". At this point I took an instant to I smile over how my unspoken wishes had once again altered reality to suit me. I was almost vibrating over the thought of lotion being applied to my defeated and broken skin, and then she finished her sentence, "... for only sixty dollars."
Oh what a cruel world we live in.
We chatted for a minute or two and then she started to get down to the business of waxing. I had never done this before so I didn't know what to expect. I was hoping she'd pull out a book from which I'd get to choose what I wanted (so I could steer her clear of anything that looked like it would change my resting expression.) Instead though she just went to work. I felt the wax going on and even though it felt so gooey and sticky I got the impression it was completely under control. It was very warm and it felt so good being applied, but the removal wasn't as pleasant. Tara had warned me I might cry and after finding out this was my first time, the aesthetician told me it might hurt - but it wasn't so bad. It did sting, but thankfully for once in my new life I managed to keep the tears inside my eyeballs. It only took her seconds to finish the entire job and she showed me the result and despite my fears I have to say she did a really good job. I walked out of there feeling good, and I didn't even care that the only part of my face that wasn't stinging, red and irritated when I walked in now was now the worst part.