Living in Charleston is terrible for my face. I'm sure when I'm 50 and don't have any wrinkles from all the moisture, I won't feel this way. But being in my 20's (I'll admit, late 20's), I feel that I've had my share of acne and its time for it to go. I'm not exactly a high-maintenance girl, but due to mounting frustration I gave in to my vanity and went to get a facial. I have had one only one other time, and it was administered on a cruise ship, where I kept slipping off the table, the woman kept slipping while doing my extractions and poking me in the eye, and it made me look hideous. So I was pleasantly surprised with this one. While the picking at my acne still hurt, there was nice smelling things, steam, soothing music, and no snotty british woman making fun of my sensitive skin while poking me in the eye as I try not to get sea sick.
I know what you are thinking "what is she talking about a facial for in a food and travel blog?" Well, between the massage (akin to kneading), the chocolate and vanilla oil, the steam, and having my hands wrapped in plastic and stuffed into heated gloves......I felt like a pastry, in the nicest sort of way. I left feeling perfectly yummy and ready to ooze into an easy chair.
In order to prolong the wonderful soft feeling, I decided that champagne and cheese was the best medicine. I'm finding more and more that while I love to feel like the pastry, cheese is more of a treat than almost any sweets. Which is, I suppose, why I have earned the nickname of Mousy.
And now, the Mousy is off to nibble on some cheese, make a nest in the couch, and revel in the feeling of being a perfectly contructed chocolate pastry.