irreverent review

As soon as you enter the reception area, you know that something singularly special awaits you. You might even feel breathless, your emotions all aflutter. It's not every day that a gal will be able to say that she had an experience that was memorable ( unforgettable, even? ) across so many dimensions of self.

The warmth of the encounter is foreshadowed by the care invested in the decor--steel grey on charcoal grey on dove grey, a homogeneity of carpet and drapes that screams tranquility and comfort. This is further underscored by the almost blissfully impersonal neutrality of the efficiently multi-tasking woman you encounter at the check-in desk who adds to your anticipation with her excrutiating deliberateness, the focus she gives to the rhythmic phone chimes rivaled only by her ongoing fascination with her glossy, French manicured nails. These she also taps to punctuate the meaningfulness of the interaction. Once you have been sufficiently groomed and processed, she then ushers you into the inner sanctum. This is what you have been waiting for, after all, and any behaviour you have encountered thus far has doubtless been administered in the service of the fullness of the experience. This space offers a dramatic contrast to the reception area, with thoughtfully arranged stools and counter tops in stark creams and polished chrome, an artfully saucy changing area and an even more enticing black leather examining table, nestled lovingly within a circle of foot rests and trays of stainless steel utensils. Nothing is left to chance, however, and your sensory needs are further nurtured by the crackling and wrinkling of paper sliding around under your butt and an equally crunchy cover sheet which you grasp tightly under your chin. The room temperature, just cool enough to stimulate shivering, completes the effect.

The lights dim gradually as the maestro arrives, sits on a stool and slides towards the table, the tails of his white coat swaying even as the sound of vinyl gloves snapping into place signals the beginning of the performance. Mere words are deemed superfluous in this arena; rather, he ceremoniously places his helmet on his head, turns on the light and leans in....
Bracing yourself, you believe you hear the word " relax" (m)uttered with all the dispassionate interest the situation calls for, and you realize he has spared you the indignity of a wordless first act and instead has gone straight to the main attraction.

Here, dear reader, I pause to give you a moment so consider the scene in all its glory before bringing it to its conclusion and denouement. You, on your back, swaddled in squeaking paper, feet anchored in stirrups, the maestro in his miner's helmet, unseen behind the paper drape suspended by your hastily and obediently bent knees, leaning slightly to his right, rummaging for instruments.... scene set? just exhale, now, and let it happen. While it is unseemly to do so, you gasp out loud as you are pierced by what feels like a spatula shaped icicle. Maestro lingers over the positioning and adjusting so as not to rush you through the exquisite agony of the moment...
and then.... with as little ceremony and as much speed as is humanly possible, the instrument is withdrawn and the sounds of dismissal ensue with a sequence of noises as inhuman as they are efficient: steel crashing into a dry, shining sink, gloves swishing with tissue paper whispers into a yawning waste receptacle, helmet thudding onto the tray and stool wheels whirring towards the dimmer switches near the exit, click of door..... full lights, you blink and shiver and slowly straighten your legs.

A few words to guide you should you choose to attend another performance. Since these experiences will likely have recurring patterns, exercise control where you have it....
* lower your expectations regarding eye contact and courtesy from pre-event staff
* choose a maestro with small hands and no sign of a refrigeration unit in or near the event arena
* leave immediately at the mention of any references to matching carpet and drapes
* and gentlemen, if you'd like an empathy experience, ask your proctologist or GP to store the surgical gloves in the deep freeze overnight before your next prostate exam

Happy Trails, fun seekers !!
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