Murder by Microdermabrasion! Let's Call a Spa a Spa. Now Please Can Call Me an Ambulance.

Diamonds on my neck, diamonds on my grill.

–Kelis, “Bossy”

Give me those calming cigars again!

Surely you’ve heard the joke whereby a child points at you, screams “Your epidermis is showing!” and runs away cackling.

The theme of our next treatment took that joke and decided: Enough is enough. The children will cackle no more after I rid myself of the top 2 layers of my flesh once and for all!

Enter the microdermabrasion with diamond-tipped wand.

Treatment was obviously pioneered by luxurious Norma-types.

According to the Mohs scale of mineral hardness, a diamond is a 10. This means it will scratch every other mineral in existence. How do you think that fares on the tender flesh of the face?

Alternate marketing slogan: Sticks and stones can break my bones … but why not finish the job with the world’s hardest mineral?

Unsuspecting. It’s better that way.

In this treatment, the Marquis de Sade — I mean, a licensed and trained aesthetician — traces your face with an alarming implement that creates a suctioning and sandblasting action. This is all accomplished via a diamond-tipped wand about the size of a milkshake straw. It felt exactly how you would expect it to: hard and sucking. And in our defenseless, blindfolded, clothing-free state, we were now tasked with holding in our screams as the joyless aesthetician ran roughshod over our tender mugs with her diamond-straw-gone-murderous. (Dermal tension brag! Not really — the rigid crags of a brand spankin’ new baseball glove could have been reduced to mush with a few deft flicks of the thing.)