Poodlefied

"Masuk as a human, keluar jadi poodle."
My husband.

For Mother's Day, I got a free day at the spa. For five hours, I was soaked, stroked, manicured, pedicured, coiffed and styled. That's more pampering than I got on my wedding day(s).

I don't really like going to salons. They make me feel inadequate. My skin's too dry and bumpy, my hair brittle and out of style, my nails stubby and yellow. When going to a salon, I feel like I have to be beautiful in order for them to make me beautiful. All your flaws scrutinized through a giant magnifying glass, who needs that? I feel sorry for the poor aesthetitians for having to turn this lowly quartz into a polished marble.

As one of the staffers knelt by my feet to give it a soak and a rub, I felt guilty and sorry for her, like I don't deserve such treatment. But ten minutes later, my hands encased in warm paraffin gloves, the gentle Helen loosening the knots at the base of my kneck, I could only sigh and let go of my salon hang-ups. I tell myself I shouldn't feel so insecure or inadequate in front of these women. They probably see all kinds of skin and hair everyday. They are paid to make me look and feel better, so Screw It. Let them serve me. I surrender.

In between sessions, I sat in a circular waiting room, a fountain trickling slowly in time with Zen/New Age music, and a stack of beauty magazines to keep me occupied. Of course. Why not perpetuate women's insecurities even more? What better place to do it than in a spa/salon? Pages and pages of ads and articles that tell you you're not good enough, pretty enough, thin enough unless you buy their product, wear these clothes, put on their baubles. Go ahead and get plucked, scrubbed, zapped and fritzed and maybe, just maybe, you'll come out looking like one of these models here. Maybe.

Sitting there waiting for my skin to finish exfoliating, I contemplated the things we do for beauty. Why do women go through all the zapping and fritzing anyway? We do all this not for the significant others in our lives, or the people we love. We do it for strangers. Female strangers at the mall, the barista at Starbucks, the colleague across our desk, the mommies at the park. Saying that you do it to make yourself feel good is not exactly true. You feel good when you get compliments. Compliments from men are great and all, but nothing beats the smug satisfaction and empowering euphoria of a compliment from another woman.

So maybe my husband's comment upon dropping me off is not exactly far from the truth. The things we do for beauty aren't all that different from the things one would do when grooming a dog. Ok, maybe that's a bit harsh. Maybe it's just like a car wash. Come in all dirty and dusty, get a soak, wash, scrub and wax, then come out sparkling clean. Still, a couple of days later, life and everyday elements will take a toll on you, and you're back to being dirty and dusty again. If you want to maintain that fresh new-car smell, I guess you're just going to have to go around wrapped in cellophane.

At the end of the spa day, I realized it's totally ridiculous to expect to come out looking like Angelina Jolie. Not full-on vamp Red Carpet Angelina Jolie, maybe just casual-chic Taking Her Kids to School Angelina Jolie. Not even that lah. You still come out looking like you. A scrubbed up, brushed down, glossy you - but still you. You - poodlefied. A day at the spa is fun and decadent once in a while, but I'm happy enough with myself -blocked pores and all- to know that I don't need it on a regular basis.