I had my first appointment at a "skin treatment salon" the other day. This was prompted by one reason; how I wake up screaming in the middle of the night. I blurt out "I'm not getting any younger!" These outbursts are based on the simple fact that gay guys of a "certain age" need to have some sort of skin care regimen, like older women who start to wear those stupid hats. When hitting a certain age, gay men need to start taking care of their skin. No one needs to see a wrinkled Steve, still peddling his used vacuum cleaner bag face on Grindr. Not that there are not men like that on there right now. Not that I would know... I'm a Christian.
Yesterday was my first of three treatments. A hydra facial with a massage and moisturizer. I arrived and was immediately looked upon as if I was there to fix the air-conditioning. A look that could only be explained as confusion as to why a large bearded man was in their waiting room. Then I was assigned to a thick lady named "Pam." Said with that loud declaration, P-A-M. "Hi, I'm PAM!" she said as she pondered at my beard wondering if the hydrafacial device would even work on my enormous amount of extra hair attached to my face. I normally attempt to avoid women like PAM, especially if their name is PAM. After explaining my large and costly face care regimen, I received a blank stare back, making me release PAM had never heard of the costly Philosophy brand of face care products. Instead she responded with "Honey... I don't think we have a robe your size?!"
This is the exact moment I realized I was in the wrong place for my... Sensibilities. I offered to just strip to my undershirt and hop on the table. Soon PAM was attacking my face with soothing lotions. This is when PAM decided to make conversation. "So? Do you have a wife and kids?" She asked. I would of rolled my eyes if they weren't covered in lavender oil. I'm a bearded guy that just explained he bought $60 face cream, and you're asking if I have a wife?
I learned that it truly is the professional you choose to make any experience worth it. Next time see if the waiting room has a copy of GQ and Fitness.
This post originally appeared on Steven Bennet's website Nice to See StevieB. Republished with permission.
