In which mama tries to make me girly.

Mama decided to treat me to my first facial this week. I know I know the life of ministry is so tough :)

Now, I grew up as a tomboy, refused to wear the colours pink and purple, arm wrestled and beat 9 of the 10 boys in youth group at 13, and when I try to wear big-girl make-up it ends up generally looking like I am trying out to be a clown at the local circus. All that to say; I am not really used to these spa type treatments.

So I arrived at the salon with Mama, who was giddy with excitement over the experience (she is much more of a lady then I am). The massage therapist got me ready in the room, and then turned on some nice ocean music. Now I suppose the sound of the ocean should make you relax. It just makes me have to go pee. After an hour of listening to the waves hit the shore, I thought I was going to have an accident.

I'm not really sure if others do this, but the entire time the massage therapist was spreading mixtures that smelt like paint thinner on to my face, I kept wondering what she was thinking. I mean, is she making comments about me in her head, is she sleeping (hence the paint thinner instead of lotion), or is she counting down the minutes because she is so sick of touching people's faces. I always wonder. There is also the awkwardness of not knowing whether you should talk to the person, or just close your eyes and pretend to sleep. After about five minutes of trying to have a conversation with her, I took the "pretend I'm sleeping" route.

The facial was quite nice, other than the toxic smells of the ointment. When I came out from having my facial and my hair cut, Mama almost started crying as she said, "Oh my, you look so beautiful." I think she was trying to say I should actually do my hair more than once a week...but then again, I'm not really sure. I hope she's not disappointed that my hair is up in a pony tail today. I think this is where the comment "Can't teach an old dog new tricks" goes.