Why Stopping to Smell the Roses Is Like Pausing to Consider a Facial
It’s fitting that my essay appears in the back of the Globe and Mail, on the same day that Stephanie Nolen’s byline is on the front page. Back in King’s J-school, she would submit her flawless article at the same time I was in the back of the class asking when it was due.
A step ahead, that girl. Stephanie’s success was as predestined as Justin Bieber’s fall.
Another chasm of note: her article is about the suspicious death of a prosecutor in Argentina, mine is about the experience of being bitch-slapped, in a manner, during facials.
Look. It’s not high-minded stuff, but before you discard me as intellectual wasteland, relatability, in this day and age, is worthy of broadsheet space, too. Profound insights and waterfall music are not mutually exclusive.
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Better than ‘kick me’
What a great article! I have had exactly the same experience at facials, which is why I never do them anymore. I can do without some product-shilling teenager identifying my character flaws by the size of my pores and the occasional flake on my cheek. Gah!
Ah thanks Wendy, good to know I’m not the only sister being judged by the size of my pores.
Terrific graphic to go with the column, too!