A facial to calm the nerves, not so much

In an attempt to slow the aging process and help my lessen my anxiety for my upcoming birthday, I decided to pamper myself.    I made an appointment at the Aveda Salon down the street for a facial.    I walked into the serene spa area with dim lighting and the fresh spa scents.  I am handed a chilled glass of cucumber water as I am introduced to Lindsay, an attractive brunette, who would be conducting my facial.  

Lindsay leads me into a private room. As she hands me a robe, she says "You if you keep up with your facials, you can look like me one day.  My  20th high school reunion is coming up and I can't wait to shout from the rooftops that everything on me is real! I know it is hard to believe but I am 38 years old.  I take exceptional care of my skin to maintain my youthful glow." 


Yes, she is a very attractive woman, but if I had to guess her age I would have estimated about 45.  All together she is a beautiful woman with a frame full of curves, long wavy brunette hair, and crystal blue eyes.  She leaves the room so I can get into my robe and lay on the table getting comfortable and ready for my one hour of relaxation.  Lindsay returns to the room frazzled. 

“My kids are coming to pick up the keys to our house any minute.  My boyfriend is coming over to the house tonight as well, and he hasn’t met the kids yet.  I’m hoping they both don’t show up at the house before me,” Lindsay tells me, seeming a little agitated that conducting my facial will put her behind schedule. 

“Oh, that will be interesting,” I respond keeping my eyes closed for the highly anticipated relaxation time seconds away, anticipating the silence to begin. 

Her phone rings.  Phone?  There are signs all over to silence your cell phone before entering the serene spa area, why doesn't she have to follow the rules? 

“Honey, I am in with a client right now.  I left the keys at the front desk for you. I can’t talk right now,” Lindsay informs her son. 
As she speaks to her son, she continues the facial only using one hand. 

She hangs up the phone as though this is her normal spa conduct.

Five minutes pass.

“Whooow, just got my cycle,” Lindsay declares.  “My mentural cycle,” she confirms as though I had the slightest bit of confusion of what cycle she was referring to.

“Honey, do you have a tampon?” she asks me as she digs through her purse. 

“No, sorry,” I respond in disbelief at the lack of relaxation I am experiencing thus far. As I open my eyes I even notice the No Cell Phones sign hung in the room. 

She leaves the room to insert her tampon.  Upon return she exudes a long sigh of relief.

“Now that’s much better. I am sure you can understand.  I actually got my period last night while I was on my first blind date.  What just happened there was a surge of flow and I didn’t want us to have a mess on our hands,” She said.  
GROSS. 

“I understand,” I respond now deliberately giving short answers in hopes that the relaxation part of the celestial spa experience sets in any minute. At the same time, confused over when her cycle actually started.  On the blind date last night, or five minutes ago when she asked me for a sanitary napkin.  

“My best friend set me up with this guy last night.  We decided we were just going to stay in.  We went through the drive through at the Taco Bell to pick up some dinner and bring it over to my new place.  I wore a tight white sexy skirt that accentuates my butt.  When I got out of the car he noticed a stain on the back of my dress.  Sure enough I had gotten my period.  It always hits at just the right time,” Lindsay explains, "We still managed to get frisky if you know what I mean." 
I did in fact know what she meant, but wish I hadn't gotten the unwelcomed visual in my head. 

When the facial was complete I couldn’t help but wonder if there were cameras in the room and that Ashton Kutscher was going to pop out and declare that I had been Punk’d. 

Instead, I paid my $75 and left in need of another spa day.  Just another day in this crazy life.