When one thinks of a five-hour spa treatment I would think the term “relaxing” comes to mind…WRONG! Tiffany and I were the least relaxed people in the candle lit, waterfall aroma filled spa. Our spa package at Eden’s Day Spa in Chinatown started out with a Beach scrub, where I have never been so uncomfortable in my life. I walked into a room with one candle as the only light source and a huge bathtub in the middle of the room. The lady instructed me to get in and I just looked at her with the expression, “I’m sorry, what?” on my face. Over an hour later and with raw, nearly bleeding skin I met up with Tiffany. Tightening my robe I took my seat and Tiffany knew immediately what I was thinking because she went through the same thing. The only thing I could say about the experience was that I was pretty sure the woman used a slice of lemon to scrub my feet. Tiffany and I then had lunch and then taken to our separate rooms. I was scheduled to have a deep-tissue massage- I wanted to die once the masseuse got started. I wish I could have been unconscious, because I am pretty sure she was breaking bones. Every time the woman told me to relax I tensed. I would have rather been punched in the face than have this women massage my back. I fought back tears the whole 90 minutes. Tiffany had her facial while I was getting my back pounded and when we quickly met up in the hallway, she told me she cried her facial was so painful! UM I was not looking forward to my facial. As the woman was leading me into another room, she kept eyeing my face and made the comment, “You have nice skin.” However, she retracted that statement once she put the huge and unnecessary magnifying glass over my face and said, “…oh.” Yeah, tell me about it. I must have been clenching my jaw, because the woman asked why I wasn’t relaxing and all I could say is, “It’s going to hurt.” I could tell she was smiling under her mask as she said, “Not yet”…oh good. As the steam began filling the room and the scorching towels draped over my face, I felt like I was going to suffocate. When I told her it was hard to breathe, she simply shrugged her shoulders and said, “Five more minutes.” This is turning out to be a 400-dollar nightmare. After cleansing my face with oils and/or creams-no idea what she was doing, she told me it was time for extractions and this was going to be a bit unpleasant. Understatement of the year! I can’t even begin to describe the amount of pain this woman brought upon my face; I can only say it was the second time I was in tears. When she finally finished squeezing EVERY pore on my face, she handed me a mirror and said my skin looked so much better. Looking at my face in the mirror, my only thought was, “Are you high?” My face felt like I had hundreds of tiny bee stings. I looked like a 13-year old boy; I looked better with my blackheads covered up with layers of concealer. When I met with Tiffany to have our manicures and pedicures, once again we couldn’t even say anything; we just looked at each other. A total of six hours later we were getting dressed in normal lighting. I walked over to the mirror to see the damage and I looked absolutely hideous. My hair must have gotten wet from the beach scrub and dried in a greasy ‘I have lived on the streets’ kind of look and I can’t even talk about my face! Quickly stepping out into the humid polluted air that was re-clogging our pores, we kept our heads down and hailed a cab. The only “relaxing” part of the day was when I ate my chicken salad sandwich.
by Stacey Willis
The Couch Chronicles: http://staceandtiff.blogspot.com