What Breakouts?

There is much business to be made out of a woman's insecurities. Every where we look, there are posters of models who look like they have never known a wrinkle, freckle, clogged pore, cellulite or bad hair day in their lives.

Then there is us, mere mortals, who have to succumb to the evil of Mother Nature's gifts that make us imperfect... or less perfect than the products of Photoshop.

Of course, deep down, we know that all those photos of the models are airbrushed to death. Still, in our wretched little hearts, we yearn to be as perfect.

So we pay the gym, the beauty salon, the spas and the plastic surgeons. But humans are never meant to be contented creatures, so beauty becomes an eternal quest. And the happiest people are the service providers.

I went for my regular facial at Bioskin yesterday. The moment I arrived at the counter to announce my presence, one of the staff peered at my face and knitted her brows in great anxiety. "Oh dear, just look at your breakout!" she cried. "Come, come. Let's have a sit in my office so we could discuss your skin problems."

Breakouts? It was just two itsy-bitsy pimples on my left cheek, brought about by my impending menses.

As much as I wanna get the two-hour-long facial session started soon so I could head home earlier, I followed the drama-mama into her office like an enchanted fool.

She rained more insults on me once in the privacy of her office. "Your skin is all clogged up and full of toxins. You MUST do something about it before it gets worse."

She criticised my skin with such conviction, I almost believed that I have horrible skin not unlike the Elephant Man's. Maybe my mirrors have been lying to me all this time and led me to foolishly believe that my skin is pretty alright.

When she thought that my self-esteem has taken a sufficient beating, she executed her coup de grace.

"Let me introduce you to Bioskin's latest treatment that uses oxygen to revitalise your skin, " she boomed. "I'm sure you must have seen our ads on TV. Even the celebrities love it!"

She proceeded to explain how this oxygen-infused treatment works. I was mesmerised with how fast her lips could move and how high her drawn brows could cock. I was also fascinated by her husky voice and tried to see if she has an adam apple.

"And we will shoot oxygen up your nose so you can also benefit from from it internally," she said with two fingers jabbing up her nostrils. Not very glam, girl.

She punctuated her product presentation with occasional reminders to save my skin now now NOW.

I steeled myself against her sales talks, as I am sure that my skin looked fine when I left my home the morning before heading to Bioskin.

Realising that I am not yet convinced, she suggested converting my current Bio Botec sessions to the new treatment. She whipped out her calculator and punched some buttons before declaring, "OK, you've paid S$7650 for thirty sessions and you've used only five times..."

WTF! I didn't realise I had spent that much on my facials. I'm bad this way. When I like something, I will pay for it without pausing to think how much it would cost me. Doesn't help that most credit cards allow for interest-free instalments.

The salesperson consultant went on to punch more buttons to see how many sessions I could swop. Then she paused and declared, "I still think you should buy this new treatment instead of swopping off your current package because you need to to oxygenate your skin and expel all the poisons, then firm it with your current treatment."

I retaliated, "But that was what you people said my current treatment can do - to deep cleanse and firm. So now my treatment cannot cleanse anymore?"

"No no, the new treatment cleans better. And there's more oxygen outside and inside," she corrected me while jabbing up her nose again.

She launched into more sales talk. I figured I should just keep my mouth shut and not attempt to question her because it would only lead her to yak some more.

I gulped the rest of my tea and picked up my bag from the next chair, signalling that I have had enough of her talking. She led me out of her office with one last attack, "Remember, do the right thing fast."

Uh huh. The right thing for me is to avoid stepping into her office in the future.