Making The World Safe For Science - One Supermodel At A Time
Science Decides Day Spas Are For Men Too
Where did this notion come from that men can't go to a day spa? I am not talking about some weird metrosexual craziness, I am talking about ordinary men. Rugged men. Scientific men. Like me. I went and, I have to tell you, I am darn proud of it. The reason I went is because on my last trip to Japan I got three of these tiny white corpuscle looking things on my face. Not like a zit ... well, like a zit, only deeper. Subcutaneous even. So I go to a nearby place and walk in. It might as well be outer space to me. The girl at the desk asks what I want and I start explaining about this trip I took to Japan and maybe it was the altitude or the change in climate and her eyes glaze over and she excuses herself to get someone who might be interested.
The someone who might be interested presents herself and says they can indeed do an 'extraction' along with a whole slew of quite necessary things for good facial health. I am already excited. 'Extraction' sounds pretty cool.
I tell Sweety about this and, being ever supportive, she says, "You're such a girl."
This only steels my resolve. If I'm going to get called gay by my chick for going to get my face cleaned, then so be it. I'll go every week just out of spite. Anyway, I go back for my appointment a week later and the girl in charge of my facial health this day rubs a bunch of stuff on me and looks at me under some sort of blacklight and generally washes my face and then pokes with her fingers at these white things.
"Sorry, I don't think I can get those out," she says.
"Of course you can," I reply. "You get a needle and you prick at it a little bit and it comes right out."
"We're not allowed to have needles here. California regulations. Only dermatologists can do that."
Why didn't they mention that when I made the appointment a week ago, I think. But I don't say anything because I am already out $150. I look around this tiny room. I don't see anyone else. "I don't see anyone named California regulations in here," I tell her. "You have a whole building full of women. Surely one of you has a needle."
"I don't think so. The Board of Health could shut us down if we did."
Now it's a grudge match, see? Maybe it's the Libertarian in me but I am not much for ridiculous legislation that impedes me getting what I want when I want it, so after a few minutes of conversation I shall not disclose ( you women think you're the only ones who can get things done with the opposite sex? HA! I have science on my side, baby ) she goes to find out if anyone has a needle.
Well, they don't. But life goes on and I am there and I know I can just go home and do it myself, I was just trying to avoid putting a needle near my eye. Call me crazy.
The one thing I was unprepared for was that they give you a massage too. Well, there's just no way I was taking off my shirt for some strange girl - random, cocaine-crazed supermodels, yes. Strange women in a day spa where I live. Big no. I mention this to Sweety later and she asks why it was a big deal.
"I just don't want other women seeing me naked. You want me to take off my shirt for other women?"
"Well, no," she replies, "But it's a massage. It comes with it."
"I don't want some strange girl touching me.I can't remember the last time another woman saw me without a shirt on, so I am creeped out by it."
"So she couldn't see you without a shirt. What about your pants?" she asked.
"Oh, I let her blow me. That's different."
So guess what? She offered to take those white things out of my face right then and there ... with a butcher knife. Just the same, I didn't take her up on it. I never know when she might not be kidding about stabbing me in the eye.
posted by Buckaroo at 6:26 AM