When I was a kid, I was a tomboy. I preferred climbing trees with "the guys" over playing house with "the girls." I've always hated dolls, finding them creepy with their glassy blank stares.
When I was in college I became friends with a Girl. Yes, Girl with a capital G. We became roomies in the dorm and eventually got an apartment together. In this apartment she taught me the way of shoes and purses.
While I have gotten in touch with my feminine side (so to speak), I'm still not one who knows or cares much about makeup. Every once in a great while I'll actually wear some... but, I usually can't be bothered with it. Hey it cuts into my reading time in the morning.
The biggest part of this whole "look I'm a girl" thing is my vanity. Wanting to make sure that I stay looking young and healthy for Jason, I've ventured into the area of having microdermabrasion treatments on my face. For those of you who don't know what these treatments are - it's basically taking a dremel tool to my face, sloughing off the top layer of skin to help smooth things out. Sounds horrible right? Well, those treatments aren't too bad. Yet. This past Wednesday I had my third treatment. It is starting to get a little more painful because at each visit the intensity of the sanding (oh god, that sounds ridiculous) is increased.
But, that's not the issue. At my appointment prior to this past Wednesday's the technician performing this sadistic sounding ministration suggested I try a chemical peel the next time I came in. She said that the chemical peel could be done immediately after the microdermabrasion treatment and it would be great. The two procedures together would really get my face on the right track to looking better.
So, I thought, why not. I'm fully committed to helping myself stay looking good for the Hubster. I'll do it. The next time I come in, I'll have this extra service performed on me. How bad can it be?
Beyond horrible. That's how bad it can be. Wednesday, I sauntered into the doctor's office for my appointment. The visit went as normal - with the technician cleansing my face and then performing the microdermabrasion procedure. Then came The Next Step. She massaged this sticky goop onto my face. It burned a bit, but I could handle it. The massaging helped ease the burn. She informed me that this mask doesn't get removed. I would wear it the rest of the day. I was allowed to wash my face that night if I put on makeup. Well, since I've already discussed my thoughts on makeup, there was no fear of that happening.Then for the next 5 days I was only allowed to use face cleanser. No toner (whatever the hell that is) or moisturizer. She informed me that it was ok if I had to start re-using my products after 3 days, because some folks couldn't hold out for the full 5 days. She also told me that I may or may not peel that day because there was a good bit of humidity in the air. My head was spinning by this point.
Wednesday night, my face was fine. No peeling. Things were good. A chemical peel was pretty nice.
Thursday I woke up to find my chin peeling a bit. No biggie. Things got a little worse as the day went on, but I could handle it. Still liking this newly discovered procedure.
Friday was a different story. My whole face - let me repeat - my whole face was a hot mess of flaky goodness. And it hurt. My face, not the flakes. Imagine having a sunburn on your face that is now peeling. That's what's going on here. Only I've never burned this much of my face, so therefore, never had this much peeling going on. I reach to scratch my cheek and it snows. Disgusting. The skin that is now exposed, thanks to my nails, starts to scream.
Seriously? Women do this shit on a regular basis? Why? I told Jason that I am never doing this procedure again.
Well, unless I see some miraculous results. Then it all may make sense to me.