With just two weeks left, the time was right or dam nigh essential to begin beauty treatments. After a not-so-relaxing massage, the next item on the agenda was my face.
“Four facial, R500 ($35) before your vedding,” the Jordanian women implored me.
“Four facial, R500.”
I did not know R500 was the tipping point in small business but she was certainly fixated on it. But instead of committing to four I thought I would try her out for one, at the premium cost of R150 ($10.50).
“I sat in her ‘salon’ with all my naked-faced glory exposed to a stream of Arabic-speaking visitors who were there to make deals of one sort or another.
But no matter, she threw a black cloth over my face while the steam rose in my direction. (I’d already insisted she clean the steamer before she even dare turn it towards me).
Then the massage began and she pummelled my face with all the force of an angry biscuit maker – and I knew a four-course facial was out of the question. But to cover all bases she offered to sell me two products for the magical R500. I said I didn’t think so.
And the pressure of pummelling intensified until I was left screaming, “not my eyes, please.” With her assurance of soft beautiful skin suspended in disbelief, I was ready to walk out. But the amount of stuff on my face literally weighed me down. Among the things layering my skin was breakfast oats which she assured was “all natural”.
I eventually made my escape after her final plea to see her on Tuesdays and Thursdays for the next two weeks for “four facial, R500.”
That’s one bulk deal I ‘ll have to avoid and henceforth trust my beauty to chance and eight glasses of water a day.