I recently had a conversation with a woman who dislikes cats but loves ‘Cats,’ (the musical) whereas I love cats but hate ‘Cats.’
Because I am an avid dancer it is presumed that I must also love musicals, when in reality the singing drives me demented!
It is also presumed that because I am fashion mad I must be beauty mad too, but no.
My nails are kept short and unpainted, I use the cheapest shampoo and conditioner I can find, no other hair products and usually go to bed with wet hair. I never wear fake tan and it’s been a couple of decades since I moisturised.
That explains why this week, aged 35 I had my first ever facial. Ten minutes in and I was wondering… ‘Is this it?’ She had washed away my makeup and was proceeding to massage my nose, not a very comfortable sensation.
The post facial red faces people were usually left with, it seemed were as a result of suffocation.
But as she continued to knead and massage my face I warmed up to it a little, especially when she encased me in a cosy duvet, slathered me in some sort of gel, put fruit on my eyes and left me to nap.
I am also an avid napper and must say that this was one of the finest. Is this what a facial is for? As a one timer and not at all an expert I can say that this facial was not what I expected.
I always thought it would involve some uncomfortable pore squeezing. I never knew it was purely for pleasure and I’m not entirely sure that’s what I felt.
My foray into beauty ends here. I will stick with fashion from now on.