The Price of Beauty

Let’s talk about the price of beauty, shall we?

First things first. I am not talking about the VH-1 program hosted by Jessica Simpson which explores the whys and wherefores of beauty rituals around the globe. I could certainly write plenty about Jessica and her BFFs drinking cow urine in India and being buried up to their necks in Tokyo. But that’s a column for another day.

Recently, I won a free rejuvenating peel and microdermabrasion from a local spa. The peel refers to a “chemical peel’ where salicylic acid is applied to the skin to slough off old skin cells. The microdermabrasion then uses light abrasion to remove the outmost layer of dead skin. I’ve heard that these treatments can work wonders in bringing a fresh, vibrant look to the face, but at almost $200 a pop, it’s low on my priority list.

I’ve never been one to obsess over aging. Still, I can see how women who were beautiful their whole lives might pursue Botox and face lifts and other cosmetic treatments to maintain their looks. Having always been average, my beauty regimen is minimal at best. I indulge in pedicures during the summer, when my icky toenails aren’t falling off (I’m like a lobster…I shed body parts on a regular basis). I’ve also enjoyed facials from time to time. Manicures last about five minutes before they chip, so I don’t bother. But overall, I tend not to spend much money on beauty treatments; I like a decent return on my investment and this face just doesn’t give it.

Lucky for me, my peel and dermabrasion were free. I arrived at the spa at the appointed time and filled out a very detailed medical questionnaire and waiver. I was thrown by some of the questions, including the one which asked for my genetic background. (Were they checking to see if I’m a mutant? Was a DNA test required?) The receptionist assured me they just needed to know if I burn easily (I’m Scandinavian…so that would be a “yes”).

After signing away all rights to my face, I met with the nurse who would be performing my procedure. This was reassuring, because when someone is putting acid on your face, you want it to be a medical professional. After several more questions regarding my skin care regimen (what regimen?) she instructed me to lie on the table. Pushing thoughts of the Phantom of the Opera from my mind, I lay down.

Now I want you to picture what it’s like to have a relaxing facial. The room is usually quiet, the lights are dim, and typically there’s some kind of new age, pan flute music playing in the background. As the skin care professional gently cleans and massages your pores, any stress or tension just melts away.

A peel and dermabrasion is not like that. In the bright lights of the examining room, the nurse went to work. “I’m applying the peel now, it might feel sting a little bit,” she warned. Within seconds, I wondered how my face had caught fire. My face felt as if I’d fallen asleep in the sun for six or seven days. Luckily, the burning sensation soon took a backseat to the acidic fumes filling my nostrils. “It smells a bit,” the nurse admitted as I silently gasped for air. I squeezed my eyes shut against the flames and fumes as the nurse fanned my face. My skin temperature returned to normal as the stench dissipated.

On to the microdermabrasion. Those of you who’ve had cavities filled are probably familiar with the tool my dentist calls “Mr. Thirsty”, the one that sucks up all the excess water in your mouth. The dermabrasion tool felt a lot like Mr. Thirsty as the nurse rubbed it across my skin. “So this is what it’s like to have your face vacuumed,” I thought. After a quick rinse of water (Ow!) and some calming moisturizer, it was time to head home. The nurse cautioned that my face would be red for a couple of hours, and then flake two days later.

Sure enough, 48 hours later I woke to a face full of flakes. It was like everything south of my nose had developed dandruff. Washing my skin and slathering on moisturizer, I rushed to my aerobics class, only to discover that sweat stings a lot more when your face has been chemically flambéed and vacuumed. Ever swim in the ocean after getting a cut? It’s like that…except it was my whole face…for an hour.

Three days after the treatment, my flakes have diminished, my face feels nice and clean and I’ve received several comments on how fresh my skin looks. All in all, it was worth the minor discomfort I endured. And though I don’t have the money for another such treatment, I’d certainly be opening to trying new things should the opportunity arise.

However, I draw the line at cow urine.