They say that you can’t look good without inflicting some kind of pain on yourself. And in my dictionary, that pain goes so far as threading my eyebrows or waxing my legs. (If you asked the kindly souls in the salon I head to, they might tell you that I’ve cut down their clientele by 50% by just screaming. And if you went to my dentist, he might tell you that I willingly prefer tooth extractions and root canals to threading my eyebrows).
So with that in mind, I didn’t think that the world of beauty treatments could go beyond this threshold of pain and weirdness. I mean, think about it, we’re the only species that decide that body hair is too ugly when it was created for our protection. Oh well, whoever said humans had sense?
And then: WHAM. I read this article that told me about some of the most creepiest and kookiest of facials, that involved putting anything from fire to your own blood (I know!) and from caviar (actually if I was that rich, I’d have bought Deepika her very own universe filled with all the make-up she likes!) to poop (YES. POOP. The thing that comes out of some creature. THAT.)
I’m not one to keep a good laugh to myself, so I’m willingly and happily sharing all that I read with you (read: why should I suffer alone?).
So the first thing this article listed was the fire facial. Before I could finish saying Ay Caramba, I had skimmed the paragraph which told me that alcohol-soaked towels are draped over parts of the body and are set on fire. Why? I don’t know. It’s amazing how we’ve taken to torching everything: our hair to make it straight, our skin now, to make it… err… I don’t know.
Then they mentioned a snail facial. Gooey, grimy, slimy snails are left on your face to crawl about. Again, I’m not sure why. Unless you want your face to be a garden. Or the centre for the International Snail’s Pace Face Convention.
Even if you are a twilight fan, I doubt you’ll take to this. The vampire facial, they called it. Except, here, you don’t drink blood, but take your own, have it beaten out of its wits in a centrifuge, and then the plasma that contains platelets is applied on your face and injected onto your face. Apparently this heals wounds and stimulates collagen, the article said. Why don’t you just eat your green leafy vegetables, get good exercise and let your wounds heal the way your grandmother’s did, instead, I asked.
Then they showed me this picture of little black papaya seeds being laid out on a face. Papaya seeds. Ha. WRONG! It was caviar! Caviar facial, they said, firms and hydrates the skin. Hell. If I had that much money….
Bird poop came next. I’m not kidding you. Remember those days when we’d run like the wind if a bird pooped on anyone around us? Kaka-pee girls and Kaka-pee boys were not allowed to touch us: lest we wind up with the dreaded disease of, well, kaka-pee. And now, apparently, women are paying through their noses for kaka-pee to be smeared on their faces.
Then they said there was something called the bee venom facial. And I was angry, boss. Here and now, the number of bees in the world are declining. And that means the end of the world is near or something like that (First, Albert Einstein said that. Then, SRK also said that he said that in My Name is Khan), and here they are, exploiting those cute little yellow-and-black-stinging-and-pollinating-happily-flying creatures. Nottagood. Nottagood at all.
By this time, my eyebrows had been raised so high that they disappeared into my hairline.
Now, my jaw dropped.
Urine Facial. Really. I swear. Apparently it helps treat acne. I’m not really sure if they meant your own piss or if someone else will bottle theirs and give it to you bountifully, but yeah. Somehow, I’ll be happily on my way with my acne in tow – even if it is filled with Bubotuber Puss or were the ugly protuberant gunk on Filch’s face – rather than have pee smeared on it.
I’ll be honest. I complain about my appearance all the time. (who doesn’t, no?) But I think I’ll pass if it comes to having to do any of these unwanted acrobatics on my face. Vive la acne, vive la ugly skin!