Losing my facial v-card

Ok Apparently? Blogs, like tomagotchis and children (so I hear), require regular attention. Thanks for pointing that out, Whiskey, and suggesting that it was time for an update. Obviously, I hadn't thought this thing through before I decided to share my life with the world.

And seriously? I have a blog? I am one of the most private people I know, hence all the bricklayer jokes. I blame my sudden need for attention (beyond my usual need for attention from my immediate social circle) on the pre-30 crisis I am going through. BTW, just 94 more days until my ovaries explode. But back to my pre-30 dilemma. Any of you who remember how I waxed poetic about how I would be fabulous at thirty may now want to take this opportunity to say "Caw, caw" (mmmm crow) as it turns out I am not so fabulous. What with father time doing those break stands across my face and all.

So last week I had my FIRST facial. I know you're all wondering how a girly-girl like myself could be such a spa neophyte. But I have really sensitive skin and I've always feared that I would walk out of there looking like Samantha before Carrie's book launch party (if you don't get the SatC reference, well you're just sad). Anyway, desperate times call for desparate measures, I am not about to grow old gracefully, but rather rage, rage against the dying of my youth....anyway, the facial was pretty meh. I thought it would be like angels doing riverdance across my face and I'd leave looking all dewy and doe-eyed and 21. I really didn't see much of a difference and a few days later thought I looked about 38 again. And as soon as my pop-tart is ready, I can throw that toaster in the bathtub......

Speaking of unstable, I went to the Magic Room for a pedicure on Saturday (ok maybe I'm not such a spa neophyte) where all the staff, who are lined up in a row working on ugly feet, speak non-english (as in chinese, or mandarin or something) to each other. Now, like my workplace where there are many french-speaking employees, I am convinced that when people are speaking non-english around me that they are, in fact, speaking about me. Yes, I am a VERY rational person. I am going to be SO multi-lingual, and SO freaking disappointed when I discover that no one, in fact, is talking about me.

So here's how mother nature fucked me over today. After waking up at a leisurely 10 am, I spent the rest of my mid-morning and early afternoon cleaning and such, periodically peering out the window to check how much sunlight was being cast on my balcony. Because I face west, I get afternoon sun and I wanted to catch the tail end of that 10 am to 4 pm when-the-sun's-rays-are-at-their-most-harmful period (yes, I've read the previous paragraph). I decided to run a few errands around two (Shopper's Drug Mart for ant-aging products). Of course, I also stopped at a few clothing stores. As I emerged from a dressing room empty-handed (Doh!) I saw that it was POURING rain outside. I was also wearing a very light, white cotton tunic bc it was like 30 degrees when I left (woo hoo, wet t-shirt! please, winnipeg, look at my ta tas). Needless to say, my plan to drink wine, sit in the sun and read my new Jen Lancaster book was foiled, and I had even bought an SPF four for the occasion....mother nature you be-otch.