I am having some beauty issues, and the issues all come from trying for beauty. Last week, I had a facial, wherein the aesthetician decided that I needed some “fur” removal from eyebrow and lip. (No one bring up the word merkin, please). Well, the lip part went fine, but the eyebrow? Let me just say I ended up with two red puffy strips under what remained of my eyebrows and a broken blood vessel in my left eye. Also, she took to my face with that harsh little metal extraction implement, and I feel as though I have the chicken pox or measles. Basically—little red dots. Between that and my eye, I look like I’ve gone 12 rounds. I look as though I’ve taken a left, a right, a left again.
Next, on to the hair salon, wherein I think I’m ready for a new haircut. He hems, he haws, but then my stylist does when I tell him to do. Can you say Doris Day? I can. I can even sing it. Oh, Do-ris? Do-ris Daa-ay?
Lastly, there are my feet, the saga beginning in a lovely spa in Lafayette, California, my mother in the next chair. Except for a smudge on the big toe—fixed by the happy toe person named Candy—all was well until I went home and dropped fork on my toe. Actually, I didn’t just drop a fork on my toe. I punctured my big toe, right hand side, with a fork. The top of toes like to bleed. The good news, blood matches my toenail polish.
When I opened the door with my two pronged-holed injury, Michael told me I had a tine-y toe. Ha, ha. I later thought that it looked like a fledgling vampire had been at me.
This entire process above cost about 320 smackers, and I can honestly say that except for my gleaming red toenails (ignore the bandage), I am worse for the beauty wear. I am no where looking like the happy writer woman off to the Romance Writers of America conference. I look like the Bride of Frankenstein, let out on a good day. Maybe.
Causes Jessica Inclán Supports
Women for Women International Goodwill Industries Lindsey Wildlife Museum Freecycle.org