No Pain, No Beauty

Ah, the wonders of the myriad of cheap merchandise that can only be obtained abroad. Shopping and vanity have consumed us for the last 48 hours, here in Hoi An, a beautiful riverside village that got its claim to fame for the thousands of tailors that line its quiet streets.

Hoi An captivated us from the moment we got off the bus. All of a sudden, it was warmer, more laid-back, more tropical ... more like the South East Asia of my dreams. Or ... Cancun? While we've been shocked at the number of tourists in every city that we've been to thus far, here it was really taken to the next level. But, I guess most places are touristy for good reason - they have something that people want to see. And frankly, delicious food, unbeatable climate, and droves of women who are willing to make you your own custom-tailored outfit ain't a bad combination. I can see why the tour groups linger.

As did we. The day of shopping began early yesterday morning, and didn't stop till late in the evening. For those of you who know me, you'll know that I'm not a very good shopper. In fact, I strongly dislike it most of the time. I'm way too overwhelmed by the amount of choices that I face, and, being unable to decide, nearly always come away empty-handed, dissatisfied, and suffering from buyer's remorse from whatever I did buy. My mother can attest to the number of times I have come back from Khol's, the Gap, Old Navy, or wherever moderately priced items are found, tried on my purchases again, and then driven back a day later and returned whatever it was that caught my fancy for five minutes in the fitting room. Add a little bit of heat to the mix, and you have a recipe for an exceptionally crabby me.

But, there was no time for crabbiness here! There were too many vendors cluttering the streets, and too many cute ensembles to be too worried about not coming away with some ounce of success, however trifling. My success seemed destined. By the time darkness fell, I had put down payments down for shorts, a tank top, sandals, and four summer dresses - all of which were going to be perfectly tailored for ME!

The shopping continued today. Only, having already spent a great deal of money and owing a great deal more, our "shopping" was more or less confined to the trying-on and re-fitting of that which had already been purchased. While I cannot say that I am absolutely satisfied with my purchases, I can also say that being completely satisfied just isn't in my nature. If they will never be perfect, I am okay with having made "very good" purchases.

Once all my items were collected, accounted for, and paid for (it was more of a task than you would imagine, revisiting tailor after tailor in streets lined with shops that are essentially identical ... thankfully, Jones has a wonderful memory and sense of direction, and was able to draw a map of where we thought all of our stores would be. Not many shopping excursions also involve cartography, she commented), we split ways to take care of some other business. I was in the market for some small gifts for people, and went, strangely enough, to the market. After having made my purchases, I was wandering around, taking in the sights of all the commotion and activity, when stopped by a lady asking me if I wanted a 1 dollar manicure. I asked if she could do pedicures instead, she said of course. Not being naive enough to know that this would not be without a catch, I followed her to her stall and was ready to stand my ground against the other things that I knew she would try to get me to buy.

Before I knew it, I was getting my lip threaded (I mean, she had a point - it isn't very beautiful to have hair on your upper lip ...). And then my eyebrows (Well, they could use a good tweezing, and it's nice to have someone else do it ...). And then -- my goodness! -- my whole face! As my eyes streamed with tears and my face turned numb with the pain of having every little peach fuzz ripped from my flesh, the lady slapped my thigh playfully and told me to stop being such a baby. "No pain, no beauty! Do you think it is beautiful to have hair all over your face? What will your boyfriend think?" (I don't know! What does Matthew think?! What if he just never told me that he finds my werewolvian hairiness revolting?!)

Then, I was told that I have "many pimples," and that my skin was "not good, not beautiful, like mine" and that I should let her fix. And so she proceeded to miraculously pop or remove every old pimple and blackhead on my face. At this point my self-esteem had pretty much hit rock-bottom, and so I justified this additional service to myself, thinking, that she could make me more beautiful. (She does have very nice skin, she must know.) This was a rather painful process, as you might imagine, but as my eyes welled with tears again, I was comforted -- her sister ran to her aid, seizing the opportunity to give me a foot massage. I tried to tell her, "No! No! Stop! I don't need a foot massage!" But each time she said, "Doesn't it feel good though?" Yes. Yes, you're right. It feels amazing. I can't say no. I surrender.

Yes, beauty is pain - but not as painful as walking away from my 1 dollar foot massage 18 dollars poorer. Oh, I am so weak-willed ... but at least I'll have painted toes, sculpted eye-brows, and a fuzz-free-face devoid of blackheads to go with my new dresses.