My mother is one of those annoying wise women who is nearly always proved right in the end. She is full of irritating little bon mots that seem to come back and haunt you long after you have dismissed them with an angry teen fag and large Bacardi and Coke.
One of her most helpful favourites, uttered as I lay horizontal and purple-lipped on the bed, trying to zip up my jeans was: "Don’t waste your youth being fat.” She was right, of course. Now that I’m in my forties it takes seven weeks of starvation and £5K of liposuction for me to lose so much as a sodding pound. Another from the Scarlett (yes, that is her name) quiplash collection was: “With ankles as thick as yours, my love, why highlight them with a tattoo?” I hear her clipped Home County tones every time the Prada vendeuse smirks at my grubby turquoise swallow-covered tootsie squeezing itself, Ugly Sister-like, in to an expensive heel.
So as I lay back on the very comfortable lounger covered in white numbing cream in EF Medispa in Chelsea awaiting my Micro Firm facial, I heard her words ringing in my head. “Beauty hurts, darling,” she used to say as she yanked a few stray hairs out from under my eyebrows. “But it is worth it.” Now, I am no wuss: I’ve had Botox, fillers, collagen implants, two rounds of IVF. Hell, I have even my wisdom teeth out! But, yowzer ladies: a Micro Firm facial does more than hurt, it HURTS!
The charming girl in the white nurse’s suit tried her damnedest to pretend that it wasn’t too bad, but having your faced punctured by a pad of micro-needles even if it is only to from 0.5 to 3.5mm in depth, is painful. “This won’t take too long, “ she promised, as she started on my forehead. It was only then that I realised how big my face is. There was so much of it. And the little munching-crunching machine took over half an hour to pierce and prick its way all over my cheeks, chin and eye sockets. My palms sweated. My teeth clenched. My heart rate went through the low-level lit ceiling. When she’d finished I was covered in small red dots, spots and blood-smeared patches. Basically I had a face like the proverbial smacked arse.
You can imagine then the joy of the next four to five hours, as I attended a business lunch, and then an afternoon meeting and a dinner in the evening, where I was not allowed to wear make-up for fear of infecting all those little open pin-pricked pores. The next day thankfully was a little less red and raw. Then came the heaing – the dry scabby areas and the small zits that followed. Hmmm, I thought the Micro Firm Facial was supposed to tighten, rejuvenate and lift even the most jaded of skins? This felt was like I’d had some terrible accident with a ceramic sander.
But then suddenly, without really noticing, about two weeks later, I looked at my face in the mirror and what a transformation! My skin was radiant, firm and plump to touch. From smacked arse to baby’s bum in less than ten days; it was nothing short of miraculous. Extraordinary. Smooth and shiny and actually quite nice. So there you have it. Whisper it quietly – my mother was right AGAIN. Beauty does hurt; but in this case it was most certainly worth it!
The MicroFirm treatment is available at EF Medispa Chelsea, 193 King’s Road, London SW3 5ED, 020 7368 7676 www.efmedispa.com