This weekend, my mom, sister and I went to the spa for some pre-wedding relaxation and rejuvenation. As I laid face-down in the massage cradle, trying not to drool, I thought, "This must be what heaven feels like." I really think the best possible afterlife would be back-to-back spa days.
I appreciated that my aesthetician didn't tell me my pores looked like grubby, downtown potholes. She was kind and gentle and whispery.
A huge departure from the dermatologist I met with a couple weeks ago.
I think I've mentioned it on here, but getting married does some funny things to your head. You start looking at yourself a little differently because you know you're going to be taking pictures that will last a lifetime and suddenly you feel like you MUST look the absolute best you've ever looked. I have friends who got nose jobs before their weddings. Boob jobs. Spray tans. Teeth bleaching. You name it.
Well, my wedding hangup was a little bump next to one of my eyebrows. It's not even noticeable in pictures, but it bugs me. So I decided to see a dermatologist about getting it removed.
She was running 25 minutes late for my first appointment. Her nurse told me that was typical—and that sometimes she scheduled appointments only 5 minutes apart. When she finally came in to check out my bump, she was a little hopped up, possibly high from her onslaught of patients.
"What are we looking at today?" she asked, motioning for me to lay down on the table.
"I have a little cyst or impacted pore or maybe a mole that I'd like taken off. I'm getting married in a few weeks and want my face all smoothed out for the wedding."
She leaned over me, inspecting my head. Not a single line creased her face.
"You need Botox," she said matter-of-factly.
Now, I have a fair share of crinkles here and there, but no one has ever pointed them out to me. Or told me straight up that I need cosmetic correction on them.
"I'm not really a Botox kind of girl," I said, wondering if I offended her—there's no way her flawless skin was natural.
"But you're getting married. And that line between your eyes— You should get Botox."
We went back and forth a few more times as I tried to let her down easy. I was not going to buy into a pitch at a doctor's appointment. That's just wrong. She started to sense my annoyance.
"You have very pretty eyelashes. So long!" she smiled, trying to win back any shred of affection I may have had.
"Do you use Latisse?"
I think I'll stick with the spa in the future.