the paper towel draped over my ass for modesty's sake kept falling off while i tried to tune out the semi-enthusiastic sales pitch regarding the laser resurfacing system and phenomenally priced microdermabrasion. i guess i'd better accept that i am now squarely and securely in the midst of the nip-and-tuck demographic (although in these days of 13 year olds getting breast "augmentations" i shouldn't get my (exposed) panties in a knot).
for a minute there i wondered what it would be like to get my skin "resurfaced." until the price came up. riiiight. i think i've lived this long with my disturbingly large pores, i can live with them a wee while longer.
the appointment began auspiciously when i checked in with the receptionist. she looked at the computer and said (in a friendly enough manner), "oh, so you did get our message."
this irked me somewhat. friendly still, i answered that yes, i did get their message. both the first one i received a month ago that i returned within minutes and the second call last thursday in which i was informed, in an ever-so-slightly chilly tone that if i didn't call them back immediately i would forfeit this appointment (for which i have been waiting since january). i returned this phone call just as promptly only to be faced with the vapid surprise that i had shown up at all.
as i explained all this, i made a point of mentioning the slightly cranky tone of last week's message. this obviously pissed off the second receptionist, who must have been the one to make the call, and who began muttering to herself, old-lady-like, repeatedly under her breath "mumble mumble cranky mumble mumble." she did this right in front of me. it was weird.
perhaps she is really 98 years old and only the youthful glow of her complexion had me fooled.
my legs now feel like i have been attacked by a swarm of mosquitos but in a month or so i shall dazzle the world with my flawless epidermis (barring any unforeseen circumstances...like walking into bushes, tripping on curbs, scratching myself compulsively while sleeping or pretty much any of the million things that stand between moi and epidermal (or really any other) perfection).