I had measles last week. Fortunately for me it wasn't the killer type. I just had minor rashes. That and including a 40 degree fever that wouldnt come down for two days. Besides that, getting sick is fabulous. I slept in for the entire week.
Wish I could say the same way for the "recovered" phase.
My mother's idea of post-illness activities: shopping and a facial.
I've never taken to shopping, especially when it means buying for clothes. Honestly, I'd rather prefer the appointment at the dentist. So okay, it's not all that terrible. My heart actually does sommersaults just thinking about the cds and shoes I'll buy. Its all the walking around, trying this, trying that that makes it agonizing. It's a futile exercise. I always end up buying nothing.
So there I was, armed with no excuse not to go, unless you count wallowing in self pity as a feeble yet valid defense. Needless to say, I was out the door and heading for the local mall.
I actually did buy stuff. I had no volition not to do so. My parents hovered around the store expecting me to spend their moolah. I might some like a pretentious ungrateful brat right now, but c'mon, what self-respecting grown female shops with her parents? Whatever.
The highlight of my measles adventures was the facial. Anti-climactic noh? :-)
I've never had a facial before. Needless to say, the experience was entirely new to me. For all the hype the spa-culture brings, the facial isn't as glamorous, nor relaxing, as it sounds. Dammit, it is painful. The facial lady/therapist, whatever you call them, must have poked too many melons as target practice. Those pokers/needles are dangerous. I understand that facials are a necessary evil. But those sessions should come complete with a morphine drip.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
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