So grand plans for Kasauli fell through the roof before you could say weekend. And now the next two days are yawning before me with the prospect of too much free time and little activity. Still, it's ironic that it should be worrying me considering how the weekdays pretty much yawn at me in the same fashion. Anyway, there now exists a plan B, which I'm a wee bit alarmed by, but the depths of boredom and self-loathing have been plumbed to such an extent now that I'm honestly willing to do anything just to do something. So a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
And apparently this girl's gotta do a facial. And then some.
About a month ago when I was quite literally sky-high on my first salary (which has now gone "poof") I decided I'd buy myself anything and everything I wanted just to know what it felt like. Gone are the days of saying "It can wait another day", I thought to myself and commenced on what can only be described as the grandmother of all sprees which eventually led to that hollow, painful "poof" in the bank account. But not before much, much retail therapy was had. Frankly, I have no regrets about that part. But an embarrassingly large portion of that therapy included beauty products and treatments and other beauty what-nots, most of which are lying shamefully unused in my little wardrobe in the PG. (Yes, I've actually thought about returning them. No, Body Shop is only sympathetic towards exploited farmers in poor nations, not greedy, hasty yuppy women with a debit card that has come to life.) Also note, you are not allowed to say mean things about how none of this expensive shit has helped, in case you have seen me lately. (Yes, SM that's meant for you.) God only knows why I waste money on make-up and related crap because that goo rarely touches my face! That might have something to do with aspiration, self-esteem and childhood issues, but it probably has more to do with the fact that it always looks so pretty...
Anyway, so one part of that beauty related retail therapy was a small bomb that I spent at a place alluringly called 'The Beauty Workshop' close to my PG. I don't know what that woman at this salon had put in my 'Welcome Drink' because it sure as hell was responsible for me signing myself up and PAYING IN ADVANCE for some sort of Beauty Bonanza that included things like a Chocolate Facial and a Pedicure with some scary hot wax. No really, I don't know what I was thinking! Considering the fact that my last and only facial bequeathed me a pimple the size of a small country and that I sweat profusely (like, ugly profusely) during pedicures from concentrating REALLY hard on not giggling when women are kneading the soles of my very ticklish feet, it is inexplicable that I would choose to put myself through this- especially when the words chocolate and hot wax are also associated! I insist, it was the welcome drink that made me do it.
Anyway, the deed is done. I've quite literally been avoiding the very thought of these looming 'procedures' for the last month. But I can't avoid it any longer- tomorrow is the day. Nothing special, apparently 'Beauty Bonanza Treatments Must Be Availed Within 45 Days of Payment Being Made'. Who knew these things have expiry dates! So I must now choose between the risk of losing a large chunk of my money or the risk of having another small country bequeathed to me, plus having my feet cook slowly in hot wax. Hmm...
