So my 38th birthday was a couple of weeks ago. And okay, I am well aware of and extremely thankful for the fact I do not look this old. Nor sound this old. And definitely do not act this old (thanks, wine!) However, no amount of snail serum or having neither kids nor a mortgage will negate what my birth certificate says.
Naturally, what did I do as a birthday treat? I got a facial. Scrub away the fact I just took another trip around the sun, please and thank you.
For years now one of my girlfriends has told me to finally get microdermabrasion. No idea why exactly I’ve put it off, as I will try almost anything and everything when it comes to face products. But professional treatments are an entirely different adventure, not only due to cost, but also due to potential consequences. We have all seen that episode of Sex and the City with Samantha and The Veil. You know which one I am talking about. There is no doubt, that would happen to me.
Having said that, there I was at the spa Friday night prepared for my regular ol’ routine facial, when the lady examines my skin and suggests I upgrade to microdermabrasion. I’m in a “whatever it takes to keep me off a ledge” mood, so why not?
I have seen countless microderm treatments on Sephora’s shelves. They’re basically a glorified mask, right? So I was not prepared to have someone vacuum my skin with sandpaper. I am quite positive half my face was left in a garbage bin in Lakewood.
However, I won’t lie, readers – my skin has look PHENOMENAL ever since. That lady is more than welcome to suck my face off with whatever she wants going forward.