I went to the spa yesterday and got my very first facial.
Here's how I imagined a facial:
Hello, Jill. We're going to slather pleasant things on your face in a joyful way. Sometimes we will wipe them off and alternately do other pleasant things like massage your shoulders and tell you how nice you look in mauve. When we are finished, you shall be refreshed and happy and your face shall be just precisely like a baby's bottom except less smelly.
In reality, the facial was much more like this:
Hello, Jill. We ARE going to slather pleasant things on your face, but that's just a ruse to throw you off so you won't expect it when we start to poke and prod your face in an extremely ouchy (to use the scientific terminology) way. So ouchy that, in fact, you will want to pull out our fingernails so as to express the pain you're in. We'll call it "extraction." and insist that we're just extracting "blackheads" when, in reality, we are extracting "any and all life force left in your body." And then at the end, we'll smile like we've really done a wonderful thing.
Not SO different really. If you would, however, like to mourn the loss of my blackheads, please send flowers.