I have a mermaid friend. She also happens to be a cosmetics Dr. I know. Lucky me, cue annoying hashtag,#blessedwiththebest. One day, she said to me “Hey Ellen, are you keen on being my cosmetic Dermapen™ guinea pig?”. I was so excited at the prospect of becoming the next Joan Rivers, I jumped into my car and eagerly drove to my guinea pig appointment. 1 speeding fine later I was settled in my chair at the chosen aesthetics clinic and I was ready to be 18 again. For those of you that don’t know, a Dermapen™ is a device which uses multiple needles to vertically pierce the skin. It is a revolutionary micro-needling device which aims to tighten, lift and rejuvenate skin. The Dermapen™ can visibly improve the appearance of fine lines, wrinkles, acne and trauma scars.
Feeling a bit sweaty in my chair due to the ‘multiple needles’ description (actually, a better emotion right now is ‘fucking terrified’), Dr Mermaid lathers me in anaesthetic cream (which feels very trippy as you can’t feel your lips, well you can but the sensation is like your lips are protruding right out of your face and might actually fall off. Imagine you are a fish for a minute. Your lips feel HUGE and they don’t move with your words). I say to the Dr “herroooo cant fweeel lwips”. I am drooling. I imagine I look like a rabid dog. She wipes me up. Ah she is SO good to me. Wiping drool and all.
The pen starts whizzing, Mermaid says “how strong should we do it?” I ask if there is a Joan Rivers setting. Mermaid says yes. Goodie. “That one”, I say! The Joan Rivers setting! Yes please and thank you. I feel the tiny needles penetrate my face. In and out, in and out. So far, so good. No real pain. Pierce pierce pierce. Oh I feel 18 already! Before I know it, we’re done. Dr Mermaid suggests we take a photo. We take two. I almost fall off the chair. What the fuck have I done. Sacre Blue! There is blood everywhere. A Vampire! Someone ate my face off! I’ve been shot! Cue dramatic music . Not to worry says Mermaid, she wipes my face and voila my skin is feeling fresh. Blood is gone! Fresh, fresh, fresh. You know when you just brush your teeth and you breathe in and feel that ‘freshness’ in your mouth? Well this is what my skin feels like. Breezy (probably because it is filled with tiny holes for the air to breeze in and out of). We laugh about the fact we have slept with the same guy. Oh good TIMES. LOLs and ROLFS later (my life is like a compact version of Days of our Lives) I get into my car and drive off home. Somewhere on the N1, my skin is tingling and feels weirdly tight. I bet I look beautiful. I am so chuffed with myself. I love this shit. I find some nik naks in my car. I feel like screaming I am so happy. I am singing “IT’S RAINING MEN” to the people on the highway. I love my cheesy car CD, it makes me feel elated. I picture my wedding one day. I want transvestites singing this song when it’s time to throw the bouquet. I am the drama llama of the century. Outrageous should be my second name. Speaking of nonexistent weddings I send Kieran a message. “I just had my face done!”.
His reply is “Oh God”. This is never a good sign. He is a man of few words. I do all the talking. Yap yap yap all day long. So “Oh God” isn’t very promising. We are meeting at the movies in 1 hour.
The Drama Llama (me) has entered the beautiful place I call home in the ‘Burbs. The only way is Bryanston! What can I say? I am a snob but a poor one. The house is fondly known as No 17 among my friends. So many memories. I need a drink I think, let me pop off the to bar for a quick little drink….better not actually, Dr Mermaid advised against it. My house keeper peers out from behind the kettle and says “YOOOH baby gal what happened to your boootiful face? What you do now?”.
Hmm not the best reaction.
“Issy I want to be young forever” I tell her. She laughs at me and says “baby girl I am 100 years old”. I laugh into my Nik Naks. At least we are funny together.
New shoes! Check! New leather jacket! Check! New Face! Check. Pow wow! Finally I cruise over to the mirror and am alarmed to find I resemble a giant blueberry with leprosy (also some orange smears around the corners of my mouth from the nik naks). The bruising is bad on my face. Like really bad. I wish I could describe the fiasco. But there are no words. All in the name of youth. I don’t care! I put on my new shoes and jacket. People won’t mess with me because I am a biker babe in my leather jacket from the Oriental Plaza (R750 per jacket FYI). Kieran probably won’t even notice his girlfriend is a beat-up, blueberry, biker babe because I will distract him by wearing his favourite perfume. Ah ha! The art of female manipulation.
I arrive at Monte Casino, the thriving hub of the Northern Suburbs. God, I bloody love the burbs. The only way is Bryanston! Yes yes! I punch the air with happiness even though I just fucked my car driving through a giant pot hole on Douglas Drive. Wahoo I can’t wait to watch X-Men. Kieran is walking toward me. I don’t need my glasses on to see that he is anxious. He gets closer, gives me a big hug and kiss and then I hear him taking a very deep and long breath. He doesn’t say anything. I can see his mind is ticking. Still nothing. We’re in the que for the pop corn. Some people are staring. A child hides behind his mother’s leg. The pop corn assistant looks shocked. She asks for the order twice. She is clearly wondering about my beauty treatment. I can’t really tell if she is shocked or what because her eyebrows are drawn on. I decide she is interested in my life and I say “OMG it’s a Dermapen experience I just did on my face”. She doesn’t say anything. I have to repeat our order for the third time.
Kieran eventually speaks up. “Ellen, people think I have beaten you, cage fighters from Fourways will come and beat me up”.
Ah so it’s NOT the pop corn lady thinking I am beautiful, she thinks Kieran is a wife beater! I feel terrible, but not really because I am young now. Speaking of cage fighters, a man (who could only be from the deepest and darkest part of the EFC and 100% living in Fourways/Lonehill) and his girlfriend are standing parallel to us. They are whispering.
I like to stir the pot. Living my life Spice Girls style ala “SPICE UP YOUR LIFE” (I was born in the 90’s after all) so I turn to them and say “Someone beat me up at Billy the Bums if you must know, things got hectic after a few tequilas”. They look shocked. Ha. I am so satisfied. We’re in the Northern suburbs. I should behave with decorum. But, I never do, especially tonight because I am a badass blueberry biker babe.
We enjoy our movie. Later we get into bed. Kieran says “you know I love you but your face is scary right now, I am turning over”. I look like a more attractive version of Freddy Kruger- maybe his less ugly sister Fredrika. I dream that one day I turn into a giant tuppaware wearing a Freddy Kruger hat. Kieran called it ‘Post Traumatic Stress dreams’. I call it aesthetic love.
It took my face a couple of days to turn around (3 days). My pores on my nose appeared smaller, my skin had a new baby-like look to it. The smoothness of my cheeks had me stroking my own face before bed time. The pigmentation on my forehead had subsided (for now at least) and most of all I felt good about myself. My acne scars from my teenage days have lessened a bit. This is the fountain of youth. I just know it. All hail the Dermapen.
The photo on this blog is what happens right after the Dermapen. It doesn’t look as bad as it actually is.
Note to self: Just don’t go out for 3 days and if you do, wear a leather jacket from the Oriental Plaza. Afterall, no one fucks with a blueberry biker babe.