The facial

My good friend J, brought me to Wheelock Place for a facial. Heck, I didn't know tiny Wheelock houses a hub for cosmetic/skincare products/spa. Until then, Wheelock Place to me was equivalent to Borders. Ha.

We stripped to our undies and wore a towel-like wrap with a high cut at the side/centre/back (eh, I don't know where the opening should be. Anywayz, "zao geng" already lah, when i climbed up the bed.) The bed was very comfortable with a fluffy comforter to cover up. The nurse-lookalike beauticians(?) with face masks started the routine of slathering dollops of refreshing smelling cream onto my pocked-marked-no-cream-can-cure face.

One smelled like Jackfruit and felt sticky. Jackfruit is not my favourite fruit and hence I had to tolerate a few minutes of sickly sweet smell.

One cream smelled like freshly sliced cucumbers I kind of succumbed to the cool tingly scent.

There were many others and my mind got confused over the mish-mash of lathers, squirts and wipes.

It was a good facial, my face looked brighter all of a sudden albeit with some red blotches on some sensitive parts of my skin (which faded). Then, the sales pitch was made for a S$2,900 a year dermabrasion treatment. She claims, it's now or never, no offers next time when I told I'll think about it. I said, No, no, no to that and all cheaper versions of treatment. No budget, I said. And then she flashed a S$108/- skin renewal cream. I succumbed.

Ask me again for another facial?

Free I go. No free I take S$5 a piece Neutrogena face mask any time.