They say that you can’t look good without inflicting some kind of pain on yourself. And in my dictionary, that pain goes so far as threading my eyebrows or waxing my legs. (If you asked the kindly souls in the salon I head to, they might tell you that I’ve cut down their clientele by 50% by just screaming. And if you went to my dentist, he might tell you that I willingly prefer tooth extractions and root canals to threading my eyebrows).
So with that in mind, I didn’t think that the world of beauty treatments could go beyond this threshold of pain and weirdness. I mean, think about it, we’re the only species that decide that body hair is too ugly when it was created for our protection. Oh well, whoever said humans had sense?
And then: WHAM. I read this article that told me about some of the most creepiest and kookiest of facials, that involved putting anything from fire to your own blood (I know!) and from caviar (actually if I was that rich, I’d have bought Deepika her very own universe filled with all the make-up she likes!) to poop (YES. POOP. The thing that comes out of some creature. THAT.)
I’m not one to keep a good laugh to myself, so I’m willingly and happily sharing all that I read with you (read: why should I suffer alone?).
