Daze Spa

There are perks of being temporarily disabled. I haven't been able to do my hair so I had my husband help me wash it. He was fired after his first attempt. I think he was just jealous because I'm follickly endowed.



Ali, an aspiring beautician, blow dried and styled my hair. This is quite a task because I have some seriously thick hair. It's nice to have special treatment.



As we were watching a movie on TV, Mimi stood behind me on the couch and brushed my hair. I allowed her to stand on the furniture for just this occasion. Aahh. This is the life. The only thing that would make it better is zero pain.



So when I went to the mall to order glasses for my girls, who are ever so slightly near-sighted but perfect in every way besides this one teensy flaw, and after spending $5oo in eye ware, I was getting used to the spa treatment. That had no flow or sense but remember, I'm a one-handed blonde on pain killers. Actually, I ran out of pills but not pain.



Back to the mall, where it is easy to lose one's thoughts, money and children. I was innocently waiting for Ali and one of the five Sam's when I was attacked. The Dead Sea Salesman was there with bated breath. "Are those nails natural?" You know how I am about being natural. "What?" I said like a typical American who can't understand foreign accents. He repeated himself and I quickly said, "I already have one of those." Crap! I was like a sitting duck!



"You know Regis?" he asks. "Regis?" like I'm thinking "Regis and Kelly." "Yes. Regis. They make your nails crack and break." "Mine don't break," obviously. Then I figured out he was saying "ridges." "Let me show you something," since he had my one good hand and I couldn't fight him off with the other, I followed. I was powerless.



"Sit down. Let me spoil you. This is my spa. You deserve to be spoiled." "Ha! Yeah, right," I say. I'm no sucker for flattery. "Show me your ritz." "What?!" as it dawned on me he was trying to say "wrists." No one's asked me to show my ritz for quite some time, except Jared who loves me no matter how droopy my ritz is.



He proceeded to wipe something on my forearm. Then he insults me by saying, "As women get older they need to exfoliate more." Here was my ticket out. "Are you saying I'm old?" "Oh, no! You look amazing. Will you marry me?" Ha! "You're young enough to be my son." Yep. He was 23. But of course he says, "If you were ten years old." SOLD to the sucker with the mid-life crisis!!! Just kidding. "Many ladies get buttocks. You won't need buttocks with this." "What?" I ask having no interest in another butt. I already have one that works overtime. Then I realize he means "Botox." He continued with his "you are beautiful" etc., etc, etc, etc.......etc. I answered with many sarcastic "Yeah, right" and "whatever" which would make my new son laugh.



Then the hard sell. "I will give this to you for my price." He whispers $35 in my ear like it was a proposition. Okay, not like a proposition, but I'm sure he thought I was hot for a mom. In his country mothers cover their faces, so you really never know if you have the best looking mom of all your friends. I'm sure he thought I was hot. "I really don't need it." I was strong, I was invincible, I was woman.....la, la, la. "Okay. I'll give you $30." He looked as if I slapped his face, but that's what I pay for Avon. I felt triumphant. He asked his manager and it was a deal. Next thing you know, I was forging my own signature with my left hand. I did my part in providing another meal for this young boy - minus $5 out of his commission. That's what you get when you try to flatter smart but very hot, middle-aged ladies. Middle-aged. What a stupid word. That's a whole new post.