Hey, Cucumber Eyes!

Add another event to the list of things I never thought I would do like smoke a cigarette, throw up from drinking, and punch a guy.

Today I got a facial.  Hey, whoa.  From a spa. 

Ellie and I entered the tranquil depths of the ship's spa like we were sneaking away from our husbands and our bridge club for a week to have a "procedure."

But it was not a procedure, just a "treatment."  A facial.

Ellie had never had one either. 

It was definitely indulgent.  Lots of product goes on the face, you are in a nice space and a beautician dressed like a nurse from the 1950s touches you so lightly you fall asleep from the bliss of it all.  Pretty great.  But at $5/second, kind of dear.

They tell you your skin in dry (duh) and mine put all sorts of goop on me like she was dressing a salad and then did some heat wand to drive the moisture deep. She said.

I left there and looked in the mirror and I was shocked I did not look 22 and just out of college.  Damn.  (Again "treatment" not "procedure.")

Truth be told, it felt really good and I left inspired to exfoliate more.   My friend Jon who I think should look every second of the month that he is older than me, has taken good care of his skin and it shows. He looks great. I have years of sun, smoke and hooch and Irish "melanomacholy" to work through, but this was really a fun start. 

Tomorrow we get rolfed!