Although I am not very good at being girly, I gave the spa facial experience another shot today. Ever since I moved to Boston, my skin has gotten progressively more dull and breakout-prone.
This time I was not jabbed with sharp metal objects, although my skin was squeezed in uncomfortable ways. I was informed that my cleanser is all wrong and that I need more facials. I would chalk this up to mercenary motives, but I had already said that I'm leaving Cambridge soon, so unless there's an interstate aesthetician mafia maybe she was sincere. My face is red and covered with some kind of Vitamin K and collagen creams that aren't supposed to be washed off for 24 hours. This is way too complicated. Why can't skin just do its job without complaint?
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
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