In my week off, I also managed to get to the optician's for my laser eye surgery appointment. I know loads of people who have been getting this done, including my 70-year old Grandad. I met him on George Street after he'd been in for a check-up and he was walking along the street wearing black-out RayBans. My Grandad has a full head of shiny white hair so he looked a bit like a reversed-out Ray Charles.
Anyway, I figure if my septuagenarian grandfather can do it, so can I. What I was forgetting was that he is minted (mostly because he does the rounds of the pensioners' lunch and dinners and doesn't really spend much money). I however, will have to forgo a lot of cocktails and unnecessary purchases in order to fund mine. Apparently, because I have such enormous pupils I don't qualify for the standard (reasonably priced) treatment. "Yeah, but you just said you put drops in my eyes to purposefully dilate my pupils." "Ha ha. You're funny." Hmmm, I wonder how many people have 'enormous pupils' and 'don't qualify' for the standard treatment.
The optician was manic and seemed to have received some kind of training in order to try to hypnotise me with her eyes, her smile and her quasi-American voice. She kept telling me that the advanced (expensive) treatment was approved by NASA and all the astronauts were having it. "Oh, I'm not an astronaut," I said, "I know I left the occupation field blank but that was just because I don't think you need to know what I do for a living." "Ha ha. You're funny." Also, it's annoying that they give you a price per eye. "So that'll be £1000 per eye." "Actually, I think I'll just get one done." "You just want to do one eye?" "Yeah, I was thinking the left one, and I can wear a patch over the right one. Patches are totally in this season." "Ha ha. You're funny." Honestly, it felt like I was being sold a time-share.
I told them I'd think about it. I want to explore why I don't qualify for the standard treatment. I mean, I'd much rather have the cool astronaut treatment for my enormous pupils (and probably will), but I hate bullshit and I'd like to know if that's what I was getting today.
After the eyes, I'm going to get my teeth whitened, then the botox. I'm toying with the idea of trying to build myself into a bionic woman/Robocop. You know, just for a laugh.
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label health. Show all posts
Friday, August 08, 2008
Sunday, May 07, 2006
The art of ...pleasing oneself
This is perhaps the hardest art of all to conquer - especially if you'd like to remain on speaking terms with people. It's taken me many years, but I now consider myself a master.
It feels wonderful to skillfully avoid ever again being caught in the 'I so don't want to be here but can't ever say' trap that has dogged me most of my life.
On Friday night I was doing some work for my "uncle".
OK, so actually he is really my uncle. I just added inverted commas to make it sound more exciting. Hey, I said it was the "hardest art", not the most exciting one.
Anyway, I was looking over and editing his biography for his CV. You might think this doesn't sound much like someone who is pleasing herself, but the fact that I told him I could either invoice him for £60 (family discount rate) or he and my aunt could take me out to dinner is a big step forward for me.
By Saturday I'd really gotten into the swing of things. I took myself off the gym at 10am, enjoyed (no, seriously) a vigorous workout (pulse rate of 80%. Burn that chunk baby) and was getting changed when Mog called me. I fumbled about in my bag and finally answered my phone.
Me: "Hey. Hi. ... Hello?"
Mog: "Hello?"
Me: "Yeah. ... Hello?"
Mog: "Oh, hi, sorry did I wake you?"
Me: "Did you what me? Wake me? No! I'm at the gym. I've just finished my work out!
Mog: "Oh!"
Me: "Oh yes!"
After a somewhat stilted and mildly offensive start, Mog explained the arrangements for her birthday night out. For a change, she wanted to keep things informal and low-key (must be her age kicking in). She'd decided to go to the 7 o'clock showing ofThe Squid and the Whale at the Cameo, which pleased me greatly as it was a film I've been eagerly anticipating, followed by food at Coconut Grove (I've never had a bad night in there yet). So, with Saturday evening taken care of, I took myself first to Waterstones for a good old browse and then to Celeste for a luxury manicure.
Celeste is aptly named. Every single appointment is a heavenly experience. As the nice lady was massaging my hands in such a way that I was on the cusp of doubting my sexuality, I was reading their brochure to see what else was on offer. And they do Decleor. Oh yes. Decleor facials, Decleor massages and, best of all, Decleor tanning. Bring on the summer.
Looking over the waxing options on offer, I got a fit of the giggles. (Technically, it's not a good thing when someone is painting your nails and your shoulders start going like a road-digger.) There were those old tried and tested chestnuts, as follows:
REGULAR BIKINI WAX (£14)
The area around and under the pant line is waxed. A basic wax if you wear regular knickers.
BRAZILIAN BIKINI WAX (£26)
By far the most popular. A landing strip is left neat. A must for all who wear thongs.
BOLLYWOOD (£30)
In between Brazilian and Hollywood. Not all off but nearly.
HOLLYWOOD BIKINI WAX (£36)
The whole area is waxed. We guarantee it will be the best and most thorough wax you've ever had. Our most popular and requested treatment ever.
Plus one ridiculous addition:
TIFFANY BIKINI WAX (from £40)
This is a whole Hollywood wax with diamontes artistically placed for that special date!
Yes, that special date when you want to scare him half to death. Can you imagine?
Him: "Jesus Karaoke Star Christ! There's spiky things all over your ...you know ... thing."
Her: "That's right darling."
Him: "They spell out something. Yeah, it looks like your ... you know ... thing is trying to tell me something. I'll need to get closer to make out the words."
Her:"Go right ahead darling."
Him: "I... told you ... not ... to put your ... wet towel on ... the bed. You bastard."
Her: "That's right darling. And remember, these babies cut through glass. Any wrong moves and you could be in big trouble."
Yet again, Diamonds prove they really are a girl's best friend.
After my indulgent experience, I went to the Cameo to buy tickets for the film we were going to see that evening. I did so and noticed that a French film called Hidden (Cache) was about to start. I decided just to go ahead and buy a ticket as my day was open to go exactly as I desired.
The film was very French in that it had lots of scenes that added nothing to the plot. French films are funny like that. If an American film showed someone getting undressed for bed, closing the curtains and lying down you'd probably expect them to be murdered, or at least to die peacefully in their sleep or something. Not so with the French film. It also ended abruptly with almost no resolution, which I enjoy because I get to spend the rest of the day pondering over what happened, why it happened and what the future looked like for the characters involved. It was very, very good. Afterwards, I took myself off to a little deli called 'Made in France' where I did my pondering over a goat's cheese and saucisson baguette. It was sheer bliss.
Annoyingly I arrived at the Cameo that evening at 10 past seven. I had all the tickets and everyone was waiting. I'd had a nightmare with taxis and ended up having to drive. I got grid-locked at the bottom of Lothian Road and then had to park almost on Strathern Road because there were no spaces nearer to the cinema. I hate, hate, hate being late for films so I was really pissed off with myself. I had to hot-foot it across the links, going back for my shoe twice. Anyway, we took our seats in time for the last trailer, which was pretty good timing considering it was actually so woefully bad.
The Squid and the Whale was excellent and I highly recommend it. Jeff Daniels' pompous assertions on literature, people and more are worth the ticket price alone. I now want to describe everything as "the fillet (pronounced 'fill-ay') of the neighbourhood" or "the fillet of Dickens' work".
The Coconut Grove was also fantastic with plenty of atmosphere and even better food. It was a most fitting start to Mog's 28th year.
It feels wonderful to skillfully avoid ever again being caught in the 'I so don't want to be here but can't ever say' trap that has dogged me most of my life.
On Friday night I was doing some work for my "uncle".
OK, so actually he is really my uncle. I just added inverted commas to make it sound more exciting. Hey, I said it was the "hardest art", not the most exciting one.
Anyway, I was looking over and editing his biography for his CV. You might think this doesn't sound much like someone who is pleasing herself, but the fact that I told him I could either invoice him for £60 (family discount rate) or he and my aunt could take me out to dinner is a big step forward for me.
By Saturday I'd really gotten into the swing of things. I took myself off the gym at 10am, enjoyed (no, seriously) a vigorous workout (pulse rate of 80%. Burn that chunk baby) and was getting changed when Mog called me. I fumbled about in my bag and finally answered my phone.
Me: "Hey. Hi. ... Hello?"
Mog: "Hello?"
Me: "Yeah. ... Hello?"
Mog: "Oh, hi, sorry did I wake you?"
Me: "Did you what me? Wake me? No! I'm at the gym. I've just finished my work out!
Mog: "Oh!"
Me: "Oh yes!"
After a somewhat stilted and mildly offensive start, Mog explained the arrangements for her birthday night out. For a change, she wanted to keep things informal and low-key (must be her age kicking in). She'd decided to go to the 7 o'clock showing ofThe Squid and the Whale at the Cameo, which pleased me greatly as it was a film I've been eagerly anticipating, followed by food at Coconut Grove (I've never had a bad night in there yet). So, with Saturday evening taken care of, I took myself first to Waterstones for a good old browse and then to Celeste for a luxury manicure.
Celeste is aptly named. Every single appointment is a heavenly experience. As the nice lady was massaging my hands in such a way that I was on the cusp of doubting my sexuality, I was reading their brochure to see what else was on offer. And they do Decleor. Oh yes. Decleor facials, Decleor massages and, best of all, Decleor tanning. Bring on the summer.
Looking over the waxing options on offer, I got a fit of the giggles. (Technically, it's not a good thing when someone is painting your nails and your shoulders start going like a road-digger.) There were those old tried and tested chestnuts, as follows:
REGULAR BIKINI WAX (£14)
The area around and under the pant line is waxed. A basic wax if you wear regular knickers.
BRAZILIAN BIKINI WAX (£26)
By far the most popular. A landing strip is left neat. A must for all who wear thongs.
BOLLYWOOD (£30)
In between Brazilian and Hollywood. Not all off but nearly.
HOLLYWOOD BIKINI WAX (£36)
The whole area is waxed. We guarantee it will be the best and most thorough wax you've ever had. Our most popular and requested treatment ever.
Plus one ridiculous addition:
TIFFANY BIKINI WAX (from £40)
This is a whole Hollywood wax with diamontes artistically placed for that special date!
Yes, that special date when you want to scare him half to death. Can you imagine?
Him: "Jesus Karaoke Star Christ! There's spiky things all over your ...you know ... thing."
Her: "That's right darling."
Him: "They spell out something. Yeah, it looks like your ... you know ... thing is trying to tell me something. I'll need to get closer to make out the words."
Her:"Go right ahead darling."
Him: "I... told you ... not ... to put your ... wet towel on ... the bed. You bastard."
Her: "That's right darling. And remember, these babies cut through glass. Any wrong moves and you could be in big trouble."
Yet again, Diamonds prove they really are a girl's best friend.
After my indulgent experience, I went to the Cameo to buy tickets for the film we were going to see that evening. I did so and noticed that a French film called Hidden (Cache) was about to start. I decided just to go ahead and buy a ticket as my day was open to go exactly as I desired.
The film was very French in that it had lots of scenes that added nothing to the plot. French films are funny like that. If an American film showed someone getting undressed for bed, closing the curtains and lying down you'd probably expect them to be murdered, or at least to die peacefully in their sleep or something. Not so with the French film. It also ended abruptly with almost no resolution, which I enjoy because I get to spend the rest of the day pondering over what happened, why it happened and what the future looked like for the characters involved. It was very, very good. Afterwards, I took myself off to a little deli called 'Made in France' where I did my pondering over a goat's cheese and saucisson baguette. It was sheer bliss.
Annoyingly I arrived at the Cameo that evening at 10 past seven. I had all the tickets and everyone was waiting. I'd had a nightmare with taxis and ended up having to drive. I got grid-locked at the bottom of Lothian Road and then had to park almost on Strathern Road because there were no spaces nearer to the cinema. I hate, hate, hate being late for films so I was really pissed off with myself. I had to hot-foot it across the links, going back for my shoe twice. Anyway, we took our seats in time for the last trailer, which was pretty good timing considering it was actually so woefully bad.
The Squid and the Whale was excellent and I highly recommend it. Jeff Daniels' pompous assertions on literature, people and more are worth the ticket price alone. I now want to describe everything as "the fillet (pronounced 'fill-ay') of the neighbourhood" or "the fillet of Dickens' work".
The Coconut Grove was also fantastic with plenty of atmosphere and even better food. It was a most fitting start to Mog's 28th year.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Tapas, tadpoles and tea
Decleor joy! - my 'official' invitation for an aromatherapy facial arrived in the post at the start of this week. I say 'official' because last week I went to the Decleor counter in John Lewis to complain about my AWOL new year's invitation. The kind Decleor lady apologised profusely and wrote me out an impromptu invitation. I now have luxury facials booked for February and March (ooooh, the extravagance!). The fact that the cost of the facial is redeemable against two or more products also means I will have to buy things on both occasions (well, it'd be foolish not to now, wouldn't it?).
I called Sinead on Monday night; she was making soup (very homely). She told me she would come through on Saturday and we could catch up and make a night of it (I have a feeling that carbs and black coffee will be required on Sunday). She'd been to see Brokeback Mountain and gave me her no-nonsense review of the film. It went exactly like this: "Saw Brokeback Mountain but wasn't convinced of the love story and there were too many sheep and hillside shots for me. Gyllenhall was a babe though."
Dinner at Tapas Ole with Leanne on Tuesday was great fun. It's the first time it's been just us since Ella (her beautiful baby) was born in November. I think Ella is the best baby I've ever met, but I do feel under pressure to mind my language whenever she's around (I'd hate for it to emerge in Ella's future therapy sessions that her ASBO stemmed from my four-letter rants during her infancy. Not that that's necessarily going to happen. Like I said, she's an excellent baby). It was good to be able to put my question (why do people have children anyway?) to Leanne in her new-found state of motherhood. Normally when I ask people that, they look at me like I'm some sort of freak. I'm not saying I don't want to have kids (I'm assuming the desire will hit me at some point - it just never has so far) or that I think it's wrong or anything - I'm just interested in people's conscious decisions to procreate (the unconscious decision to procreate is far more common and, for that reason, completely uninteresting to me). I totally get the desire to make love (thank the Lord!), I'm just a bit more shaky around the desire to make babies. I understand that people want to have kids, what I want to know is why they want them. Leanne got where I was coming from and feels kind of the same when it comes to having another. She said that people just assume that she'll want to have more, but she really can't see why she would want another one. Anyway - good chat!
Some prospective clients for my 'leisure-time' freelance venture flew up from London and took me out to dinner on Wednesday night. We went to the Living Room and I thoroughly enjoyed the food - though the house champagne left a lot to be desired. We talked business and they didn't hit on me - step up from last week (see 'Networking?'). I was firing on all cylinders and actually astounded myself. I had a bit of an out-of-body moment when I looked at myself, listened to what I was saying and wanted to laugh at how grown-up and knowledgeable I sounded. Anyway, I offered my services as a consultant for a few days and they were most receptive. Ka-ching!
I popped round to see Sam on Thursday night. It was freezing outside and the cup of tea he made me was delightful. I told him about my week; my ups and downs, triumphs and irritations. He told me about his week; his visa/passport issues, proteins, genes and bio-informatics. I am chuffed with myself because I have set-up a website and have been teaching myself how to build it (in the most basic of ways naturally). I was even more chuffed because Sam seemed chuffed at my being chuffed with myself because I wrote a little bit of HTML. Then he offered to give me a copy of Dreamweaver (an HTML cheat). Cool. I left Sam's place feeling ten times better than I had when I went in.
Bring on the weekend!
I called Sinead on Monday night; she was making soup (very homely). She told me she would come through on Saturday and we could catch up and make a night of it (I have a feeling that carbs and black coffee will be required on Sunday). She'd been to see Brokeback Mountain and gave me her no-nonsense review of the film. It went exactly like this: "Saw Brokeback Mountain but wasn't convinced of the love story and there were too many sheep and hillside shots for me. Gyllenhall was a babe though."
Dinner at Tapas Ole with Leanne on Tuesday was great fun. It's the first time it's been just us since Ella (her beautiful baby) was born in November. I think Ella is the best baby I've ever met, but I do feel under pressure to mind my language whenever she's around (I'd hate for it to emerge in Ella's future therapy sessions that her ASBO stemmed from my four-letter rants during her infancy. Not that that's necessarily going to happen. Like I said, she's an excellent baby). It was good to be able to put my question (why do people have children anyway?) to Leanne in her new-found state of motherhood. Normally when I ask people that, they look at me like I'm some sort of freak. I'm not saying I don't want to have kids (I'm assuming the desire will hit me at some point - it just never has so far) or that I think it's wrong or anything - I'm just interested in people's conscious decisions to procreate (the unconscious decision to procreate is far more common and, for that reason, completely uninteresting to me). I totally get the desire to make love (thank the Lord!), I'm just a bit more shaky around the desire to make babies. I understand that people want to have kids, what I want to know is why they want them. Leanne got where I was coming from and feels kind of the same when it comes to having another. She said that people just assume that she'll want to have more, but she really can't see why she would want another one. Anyway - good chat!
Some prospective clients for my 'leisure-time' freelance venture flew up from London and took me out to dinner on Wednesday night. We went to the Living Room and I thoroughly enjoyed the food - though the house champagne left a lot to be desired. We talked business and they didn't hit on me - step up from last week (see 'Networking?'). I was firing on all cylinders and actually astounded myself. I had a bit of an out-of-body moment when I looked at myself, listened to what I was saying and wanted to laugh at how grown-up and knowledgeable I sounded. Anyway, I offered my services as a consultant for a few days and they were most receptive. Ka-ching!
I popped round to see Sam on Thursday night. It was freezing outside and the cup of tea he made me was delightful. I told him about my week; my ups and downs, triumphs and irritations. He told me about his week; his visa/passport issues, proteins, genes and bio-informatics. I am chuffed with myself because I have set-up a website and have been teaching myself how to build it (in the most basic of ways naturally). I was even more chuffed because Sam seemed chuffed at my being chuffed with myself because I wrote a little bit of HTML. Then he offered to give me a copy of Dreamweaver (an HTML cheat). Cool. I left Sam's place feeling ten times better than I had when I went in.
Bring on the weekend!
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