little gains

Tonight, as a reward for completing my yoga teacher training, I decided to treat myself to a spa treatment.

Being that I lost a few pounds I figured I would enhance the effect by getting the quadruple thighpass. Which incorporates, and I quote:

A serious anti-cellulite treatment for those with "thigh" anxiety. An "all points attack" on orange-peel leaning legs. With a custom-blended microcirculation-stimulating essential oil, sluggish lymph gland handling, and two types of thigh-smoothing, toxin-purging massage. After 6 sessions, you'll be looking absolutely fabu-legs.

Ummmmmmmmmm

Yeah. It involved a pump machine with high suction. And a suction cup. That pulled my forearm skin (no fat there) up an inch. To test so I would be prepared.

Do you have ANY idea what it did to fattier tissue?

Ouch.

Oh wait.

Right, ouch.

Treat? What treat?

Damn you spas and your so-called beauty regimens. Torture to look pretty I say.

But really what do we ever do to look good that feels good as well? Yeah, nada. Waxing? Plucking? Shaving?

Dammit, being pretty is painful.