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!

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.

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.

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.)

Well ... how do we look?

Well … how do we look?

Sorry, wrong photo. This is me directly after the diamond-tipped microdermabrasion. At least I have my pinot g!

Sorry, wrong photo. This is me directly after the diamond-tipped microdermabrasion. At least I have my pinot g!

IMG_9970

Mercifully low lighting (and awkward faces anyway) may obscure true after-effects. I.e.: welts and scared faces.

Mercifully low lighting (and awkward faces anyway) may obscure true after-effects. I.e.: welts and scared faces.

We NEVER LOOKED BETTER!

We NEVER LOOKED BETTER!

Right, Norma?

I FEEL PRETTY! OH SO PRETTY! But also like I have undergone a flaying.

One Comment
  1. Pingback: The Wind Beneath My Bathing Suit Parts: I'm Not Cut Out for The Spa (Part 1 of 3) | Violet On Orange

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