I took some much needed time off yesterday for what I thought would be a luxurious hour of pampering.
My sister, who enters every contest she comes across, whether she's interested in the prize or not, won a free facial treatment at a fancy downtown salon at the corner of chichi and poo-poo.
Since she doesn't like massages, and I live for them, she said I could take her appointment. Which turned out not be a facial, but a microdermabrasion treatment, where fine crystals are beaten onto the face by a machine that sounds like a vacuum cleaner and feels something like a gritty cat's tongue.
As I lay on the treatment table flinching with every touch of the machine, my person spa attendant, is doing everything in her power to sell me thousands of dollars worth of skin care products.
Hopefully that's the last time I give in to the lure of the freebie.