Masseuse Abuse

It's Monday! That means I had Russian class this morning. Our class is very laid back and basic. Every Monday we are given a new list of vocab words. Today we spent most of the class going through the numbers. I have had a couple tutors since moving to Kazakhstan, so I know my numbers and can speak very little. "Ya gavaru choot choot pa russki." Aka, I speak little Russian. Even though I already know most of the things we are learning, I still take the class because it really inspires me to try harder with learning the language. I'm embarrassed to admit that I've lived here for a year and a half, and can only speak a tiny bit. My goal isn't to read Tolstoy or anything, but I really would like to communicate in any situation that comes at me.

This afternoon I had an appointment for a deep-pore-cleansing facial. I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew it would be painful. For some reason, now that I'm in my 27th year of life, I have more pimples on my face than I have had in my entire life. My feet have also grown from a size 6 to a 7...puberty round two??? Maybe I will finally grow from my measly 5'0 status to a model-esque 5'7. A girl can dream, right? Anyways, back to the facial. My first facial was done here in Astana about six months ago. I can't really remember what was done first, but I definitely remember the lady using one of those metal pimple extracting tools. At the end, she used this incredible gel mask that hardened and peeled off in one, smooth, cooling piece. Today was a bit different. My first facial was done at a spa, so this time I tried an actual cosmetology center. Sounded legit.

The cosmetologist cleaned my face, put on a warming cream, wrapped it in saran wrap, and let me lie there for about 10 minutes. When she came back, I knew it was time for the extraction. I was nervous yet anxious to find out what her technique would be. She used a "pierce with needle then squeeze" technique. I have seen this done on very deep, so-called blind pimples, but never on the type of zits I had. It actually wasn't as painful as that metal extracting device from the last place, but she didn't use that awesome mask at the end. So they tie when it comes to comfort level. I'm hoping I wake up tomorrow or the next day with radiantly clear skin. Right now, I look like a meth addict who needs a fix.

Are facials supposed to be relaxing? I believe that some probably are, but not the kind I need. Something else that should be relaxing, but never is for me, is a massage. My first experience with meeting our masseuse happened hours after I first arrived in Kazakhstan. I realize that "our masseuse" sounds extremely pretentious, but I can assure you that it shouldn't. Anyways, there I was standing  in the living room, bloated from retaining about 25 gallons of water, and having to get naked for this stranger to massage me. I was nervous, but when she arrived at our place, she seemed like such a sweet lady. And she was. Until about the 5th or 6th time she came over. By this time, we kinda knew each other so I think she felt like we were good enough friends for her to critique me. She started telling me I was fat. Literally pulled the skin below my belly button, looked me in the eye, and said, 'tisk tisk Jessica.' She would then fiercely wrap me in saran wrap so I could sweat the fat out. I put up with it because she really is awesome at getting my knots out, and she comes to the apartment.

Does beauty really have to be so painful?