Malia had a bunch of folk over for a spa night last night and there was chocolate cake. Oh, sweet chocolate cake.
And there were these neck things, like giant, heavy u-shaped warm… well, I guess I don’t need “like” in there because I can’t come up with a metaphor. That’s what they were.
I felt a little dorky because my beauty regime consists of washing my face, putting on lotion, and slapping on eyeliner on days when I might see someone cute.
I played it cool, but I was intimidated as hell by all the spa treatments we got. There were toners and lotions and dead sea salty things and margarita rubs and exfoliation do-hickies and lip masks and balms and eye puffy removers and such and I was just like, “Holy shit, I don’t know what any of this stuff is nor when nor where I should use it on me.”
It was cool, though. I got to scrub and pat and soak and I did come out feeling refreshed and like I’d learned a little something, the most important lesson of which is, if you ever, ever have a chance to eat chocolate cake at Malia’s, you should take it.
Bring me one of those hot neck thingies, a face mask that is self-warming and smells like peppermint, and some chocolate cake and I don’t think there’s a problem in the world I could not ignore for at least the time it took me to eat the chocolate cake.