Mario Tricoci, Part 1

So, my sissy and I got MT gift certificates from our mom for Xmas presents, and last weekend, we went to the spa for some luxuriating!

We decided to get a facial, manicure, and pedicure each, you know, so that when it turned cold again 3 days later, we'd be able to cover up our pretty new skin and nails with closed-toe shoes and wool coats. Freaking March.


Anyway. The facial. I had never had a facial before, and although I am not a huge fan of traditional chick pampering, I thought, hey, might as well stave off the crow's feet for a few more years with some decent skin care, yeah?

Aside from the impressive level of claustrophobia I experienced (more on that later), it was good! They cleansed and exfoliated (my brain always wants to say defoliated, but that's a whole 'nother thing altogether*) and steamed and moisturized and toned and sunproofed.

I came out feeling good, but very, very slimy. I'm not sure my face has ever been that shiny. It was almost to the point where I wanted to let people know that my face didn't usually look like this.

The claustrophobia was something else entirely, and apparently it wasn't just me, b/c my sister asked me after I came out, how I fared with the smotherfication! See, here were the problems:

-- I'm claustrophobic to begin with
-- You change out of your clothes into a velcro towel sort of minidress thing, which I had velcroed too tight, such that it kind-of restricted deep breathing...
-- The table is a kind of sculptured thing that you're sunk into
-- I'm claustrophobic (AHHHH!!! HELP ME!!!!)
-- You're under a sheet and blanket
-- ...I couldn't fix the towel b/c the esthetician** had lotioned my hands, put plastic bags on them, and put them in these giant heating pad oven mitt things
-- At times I had warm, heavy towels on my shoulders, face and or neck (can't breathe...)
-- At other times, my face was covered with scented goo
-- A steam wand was blowing steam on my face (...stealing...my...air...)

All of these things combined to have me reassuring myself silently, "you're still breathing, you're still breathing". Kind of like Amanda K getting her hair washed, "Don't cry, don't cry".

I survived, though. Which is nice.

So we then had MT's Signature pedicure and manicures. They were your standard, good, salon mani/pedi***. A heated vibrating chair, a bubbling foot bath, lots of scented scrubby and lotiony things, pretty polish. The Elizabeth Arden polishes, however brown they may look, are a lot redder once they're out of the bottle, so, you know, caveat pedicur-or.



*"That's a whole 'nother thing"****

**That's what they call people who do facials and waxing and stuff--estheticians. Apparently the money they make somewhat compensates for the icky parts of their job. At least that's what she told me...

***I have to say that I don't go to the storefront nail places. I know a lot of people do go, and they don't have any trouble, but I know too many people who have gotten infections from places like that. And those nail infections are sooo hard to cure! Plus, some places use those callus shaver things which are, I'm pretty sure, illegal, and, according to those who've seen them, result in pieces of your foot being shaved off such that they look like slices of parmesan cheese. Eww.


**** 5 points to the first to identify the movie! 10 points if you're younger than 25.


Tomorrow: Part 2, The Makeup Artist