Adventure, Part II

Let me start off by saying that as a result of the problems Blogger has experienced over the last few days, Thursdays Random Thursday post is MIA.  I'm surprised at how much that bothers me.  I think it's a sign that I'm far too attached to the silly words I write for you. 

So.  Back to the big adventure.

I stepped into the office, took a deep breath and walked through a chock-full waiting room to the receptionist's desk.  I smiled, handed her my Groupon printout, and confessed that I was late.  Seeing how I had rescheduled this appointment two other times, I was ready for whatever she threw at me.  Fortunately (or not) she said I could still be seen, handed me a raft of disclaimer forms, and pointed me back in the direction of the waiting room.

I sat in one of two empty chairs and was immediately joined by a pretty woman holding an icepack to her face.

I was terrified.  An icepack?  This is why I kept rescheduling.  I kept glancing at her out of the corner of my eye as she calmly moved the icepack from one flushed area of skin to another.  When she caught me staring, she took it as an invite to let loose a flood of chatter, all the while moving the icepack gently around her face.

"I had the chemical peel.  Is that what you're here for?  Are you Anglo?  Yeah, I'm Cuban.  It's going to be worse for you.  My face is on fire.  You're going to be so red when they're done.  Have you done this before?  No?  I do this all the time.  I'm 41, but people always think I'm in my 20s.  I also do Botox.  You really need to Botox.  Those lines around your eyes?  My doctor could totally get rid of those.  You really need to Botox.  Just make sure you see a doctor.  The first time I did it, the guy had no idea what he was doing and my face was frozen for months.  I had no facial expression.  At all.  You really need to Botox.  I just do it three times a year.  I do facials every week.  I do the chemical peel in between the Botox, which I fly to Florida for.  What people don't realize is that you have to give your face a break from the Botox, or your muscles atrophy.  My doctor is so good.  He keeps me looking natural, not like those women who can't even smile.  It's also really important to hydrate.  I can tell you're dehydrated.  You really need to hydrate."

I was helpless.  Thankfully, a sliding door opened and my name was called.  Still in shock, I followed a very young, very wrinkle-free girl to a stark white room that contained nothing, save a dental office chair and a barren black counter that ran the length of the room. 

I sat in the chair.  The girl appeared by my side with a small plastic cup containing about two ounces of a clear liquid.  She used a square of gauze to apply it to my face as we chatted about the horrors of Northern VA traffic.  After about 15 seconds my face started warming up.  After another 15 seconds it was on fire.  Another 15 seconds and she was done, and it was all I could do not to cry.  My nose was dripping.  My eyes were tearing.  I hopped around like I had to use the bathroom.  The girl handed me an icepack, emphasizing that it was but a gracious loan, and sent me back to the waiting room.

The Cuban was gone.

I hopped around the packed waiting room while pressing the icepack to my forehead, my left cheek, my right cheek, my chin, my forehead, and so on.  I glanced at the clock on the wall.

Crap.  I was supposed to be at Alexandria Cupcake, meeting the perfect stranger.  Right. Now.

If my face looked anything at all like it felt, I was the stupidest person on the face of the planet.  After three minutes of icepack rotation, I handed it to the receptionist and raced to the car...

where I did not look in the mirror.