What price beauty?
My Mom, Donna Warlick, told me this story the other day and I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. So, I demanded that she write it up for me to post on my blog. Here is her story:
A couple of months ago, at a street fair, I bought a promotional certificate for six beauty treatments for only $99. It was a great deal, and around the first of the year I started cashing them in.
My second treatment was a microdermabrasion. As a “woman of a certain age,” I have had dermabrasions in the past, and was not nervous or concerned at all. It was to be performed in a medical office, by a licensed esthetician. I arrived at the appointed time, and completed the requisite questionnaire, which included a checklist of other treatments in which I might be interested.
I have some vertical lip lines and smile lines that I would be very happy to lose, so I checked “Juvederm” on the list. Juvederm, in case you don’t know, is an injectible wrinkle “filler” that I have researched and found to be quite safe and effective, and fairly long-lasting.
I headed in for my dermabrasion, which included a mini-facial. The office and staff were delightful, and the treatment was very relaxing. At the end, the Esthetician mentioned my interest in Juvederm, and asked if I would like to speak with the doctor. I said, “Sure.”
The doctor came in. He was cute as a puppy, looked about 16 years old, was very chatty and personable, and completely reassuring. He explained the Juvederm procedure to me, including what it could and could not do, and the minimal healing process. He himself told me the cost (impressive!) and I was surprised at how affordable it was.
With my daughter’s wedding coming up, I have been on a crusade to “be all that I can be,” including losing weight and being diligent about skin and hair care. The wedding was three weeks away, so I had plenty of time to recover. When the doctor said he could get me in that very morning, I was really excited! “GO AHEAD,” I jubilantly told him.
Off he went to get the set up, while I euphorically anticipated showing up at the wedding and being mistaken for the sister of the bride!
Upon his return, he asked rather off-handedly, “You haven’t taken any Ibuprofen or Vitamin E in the past seven days, have you?” OH NO! I take Vitamin E every day, and I had popped two Ibuprofen tabs on my way to his office! But I figured, hey, he isn’t going to be cutting me, so I certainly wouldn’t bleed to death, and I was WAY too excited to pass up this opportunity.
So… I LIED! Yep, I, a grown-up, educated woman, who actually worked in the medical field for years, sat right there with a blank expression on my wrinkled face and LIED TO MY DOCTOR!
He anesthetized the treatment area, and started the injections. The procedure itself involved only minor discomfort, and was uneventful, until the doctor asked me, “Do you usually bruise easily?” UH-OH, I thought. NO, I said. He completed the procedure, and told me I would have some minor swelling and bruising that I could cover with makeup. (Where DO men get the idea that makeup can actually hide ANYTHING?)
By the time I got home, my upper lip was slightly swollen, and there was some minor discoloration, mostly around the injection areas. When I told my husband what I had done, he looked at me like I was crazy (that’s already an established fact) but didn’t say much.
The next day – Sunday – I woke up and dashed to the mirror to see how my “new face” looked. Well, my new face looked like Mickey Rourke had held me down and punched me in the mouth about 20 times! My upper lip was totally purple/black, and the surrounding area was puffed and splotched with black! Muhammad Ali would have been horrified! My husband just shook his head and said, “That’s going to take a week to clear up.” I told him the doctor had assured me that it would only take a couple of days. But clearly, the Vitamin E and Ibuprofen had betrayed me.
The garage needed cleaning, so my husband moved his car out onto the street and I got to work inside, where no one could see me. It was a beautiful day, and about 2:00 my husband said he thought he would go sit outside in his nice warm car and read a book. I said, “Are you crazy? If the neighbors see you sitting in your car, and then see me with a black and blue face, do you know what they are going to think?” He looked annoyed, but stayed inside.
By Monday morning I looked, if possible, even worse. I work at San Diego Police Headquarters. Everyone knows everyone there, and is very friendly and concerned. I was too embarrassed to confess the truth about my appearance, and the story was too long anyway. I knew I would have to answer about 500 questions, and maybe have my poor, innocent husband come under suspicion. I tried to come up with a plausible – phony – explanation. I considered claiming a close encounter with a surfboard, walking into a door, or being in an automobile crash. I finally decided that anything I made up would only lead to more questions, from DETECTIVES no less. So I called in sick and stayed home.
By Tuesday, the bruises were blacker still, and makeup couldn’t begin to disguise them, but I HAD to go back to work. I decided the only solution was to hide my face. OK, how do you hide your FACE? I mean, it’s right there on the front of your head! You need it to breath, eat and talk. I considered wrapping a scarf around my neck and lower face, but feared being mistaken for a terrorist. I finally settled on buying a package of surgical masks. Of course, then I had to come up with a reason why I was wearing a surgical mask to work. Sure enough, the questions started as soon as I stepped into the elevator. Everyone was VERY concerned with my health. I simply told them, mysteriously, that “I have a little bronchial thing, and I am supposed to avoid particulates.” Not exactly a lie – no one should inhale “particulates” and everyone has bronchial “things” (they are called lungs). Specific enough to be plausible; vague enough to discourage follow-up questions.
It’s Friday now. The first day I’ve had the courage to take my mask off in my office. Make up KIND OF disguises the bruising, which is has turned a weird shade of chartreuse. I put my mask back on when I have to leave my office. I HOPE I will look presentable in time for the wedding. I am not sure yet how much the procedure helped, but my “sister of the bride” fantasy is ever more remote.
Luckily, the wedding colors include black and green. I should fit right in.
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