So my spa trip on Sunday was not quite the mecca of relaxation that I had hoped it would be. I knew, going in, that my skin wasn’t doing that well. But you know how you go into every facial with a certain amount of optimism. Like, hey it can’t be that bad, right? …right? And then the facialist squeezes the heck out of your pores and you know that things are bad. They are very bad.
Anyhow, I swore to myself as I left the spa, that I would take some serious measures. 1 — increase my water intake. 2 — stop eating so many darn brownies. 3 — pull out the nasty green stuff that my husband hates so much.
The nasty green stuff is more politely known as Azulen Paste, but my husband has given it said moniker as an expression of his extreme distaste for it. I honestly don’t know why he thinks it’s so bad, but he’s convinced it smells like pureed roadkill and has even claimed that the continued use of it will be the ruin of our marriage.
Hmm…clear skin or marital bliss? Sadly enough, it’s kind of a hard choice for me to make.
Before you make a rash judgment about my character, think of that age-old question. Would you rather be perpetually 10 pounds overweight and get a million dollars? Or be a skinny mini? Not an easy choice to make, right? And no, you can’t take the million bucks and hire yourself a trainer…imagine that those 10 extra pounds are here to stay.
But really, I kid. I have in the past gladly sacrificed the nasty green stuff for the sake of my marriage. But these are desperate times, folks. So for the sake of our marriage — because marriage is a two-way street — my husband has laid aside his loathing of the NGS and let me apply at will.
Now that, I tell ya, is true love.