So Much Pain

My lovely daughter is currently studying esthetics, which really means skin care. Basically, that means she makes people look good. She's learning about stuff you put on and take off your face and rub on and take off your skin. 

"Mom, will you come in and let me practice on you so I can get some hands-on hours in?" she kindly asked me.
"Sure. Like you'll give me a facial or something?" I asked, innocently.
"Yeah. I'll see what I need to get off my list, and I'll sign you up for what I need to do."

Since I love her and want to promote her education, I scheduled an appointment. Now, let me explain that I am not a fancy person. I do not do complicated beauty procedures. I have not plucked, waxed, tanned, massaged, etc. I shower. That seems good enough to me.

When I arrived for my appointment, my sweet, beautiful daughter told me she needed to wax my face.

My face spent the rest of the day on fire. On FIRE, Ya'll. A burning torch kind of fire. And I did say, "Ya'll," and I'm not even Southern. That's how much fire my face was on.

And I still love her. That's the power of momhood.