I wouldn’t think of having a facial. I’m a man. Grrrrr. . . . Snort snort. But I will confess. . . . I had one a few years ago.
I’m still a bit in the dark as to how or why this happened but one Christmas Lauren and Donna presented me with an envelope. Inside was a coupon for a facial. I remember looking up and saying something like “I can’t have a facial. I’m a man.” Grrrrr. . . . Snort snort. But the two of them must have thought that it would be fun to see my reaction. Or maybe it was that my face was in serious need of help. Either way, I agreed. And had a facial.
So I went into this spa place and I’m sitting there. With a bunch of women. Sure – I was self conscious. But I’m a man . . . . Grrrrr . . . . Snort. . . Anyway, I went in this darkened room and the woman “therapist” smilingly had me place my head over a steam thingee. Then she put a towel over my head and told me to “be still.” Hoookayyy. . . . When she came back, she had me lay back and started squeezing heaven knows what out of my cheeks, nose and forehead. Then she had me lay back and she wrapped my face in a towel that smelled of something unmanly. After an hour or so, there was a freezing cold towel and I was done. I puffed out my chest and strutted out of the room, through the waiting room and out the door. And exhaled.
I’m sure I’ll never have another facial though I can say without a blink “Yeah – I’ve had a facial. Wasn’t bad. . . ” Grrrrrr. . . . Snort snort. . . .