Saving Face, Instilling Grace by Stacy Gardner Beyond Fitness Magazine, Spring 2005 When I decided to look into the idea of cosmetic acupuncture, I was somewhat at a crossroads. Not really in a place of indecision, but rather a place of curiosity, possibility and resolve. Over the last year and a half, I had become more and more devoted in trying to meet the needs of my body, due in part because it was where my mind and spirit wanted to go, and also, it was where I wanted to be. At first, I thought the quest into the journey of cosmetic "anything" might deem me shallow or less authentic in my virtue and ideals, but these feelings were soothed (and eventually subsided) after my first phone call and conversation with Sue Sheedy of Toronto Bodyworks. The thinker in me (hence why I have a deep and meaningful furrowed brow) declared: "I'm only calling to inquire, learn, and then, think about it some more." But, it was my artless and curious side, in addition to Sue's appreciation of my 'ramblin' on' (I'm 32, I'm not concerned about how I look - though, again, that bloody furrow always makes me look so - I'm about to go on a trip with a girlfriend, I'm trying to adapt to a new lifestyle change called working from home … Oh, and did I mention already that I'm 32 and I'm not concerned about how I look?) that ended our call with: I'll see you on Monday. We booked 10 cosmetic acupuncture sessions over the following two weeks. We asserted that I was not vain and silly, and that above all, this pursuit was not only consistent with my desire to experience and explore self-expression, but it was also in keeping with my belief - that it is nature and self-care that helps invigorate and heal the body, and that while I had never undergone acupuncture of any kind before, I was willing to let my body respond naturally to a practice that seemed the most sensible. First of all, I am not afraid of needles, so in truth, I arrived fearless but somewhat skeptical on my first visit to Toronto Bodyworks. Not skeptical in a biased "I don't know why I'm here, this is never going to do anything" way, but more in an interested, unexpecting, "Hmmm … we'll see" kind of way. "You're very tolerant," Sue says about half way through the session. I want to smile, but I neither want to interrupt the process or cause any needles to fall out (they are not embedded deeply), though, just the same, I am pleased that my response is a good one. Every once in a while I feel one prick (during application) more than another, not painful or lasting, just present. To be honest, I find eyebrow tweezing to be much more harrowing! Once my face is methodically and gently adorned with approximately 75 small fine needles - more like delicate little pins actually - Sue tells me to "just relax" for the scheduled 30 minutes. She covers my clothed body with a fresh white cotton sheet, hits play on the CD player, closes the door behind her, and parts with the words, call me if you need anything. Hmmm. Thirty minutes of just lying here with pins in my face. La ti da. La ti da. Relax, relax, relax, echoes my noisy brain. I don't. Well, at least not right away. I imagine what I might look like. A picture passes through my head, one that most might consider menacing, and not at all relaxing, but I try not to interfere with my imagination. And so what if I imagined myself looking like the video box cover of Hellraiser, I knew that I was in good hands. Ahhhh … There I go … Unaware of how much time has passed (no clock in here) I begin to take in the room and let the music serenade my gaze. It is light and airy and kind (and I really want those willowy curtains for myself). Gentle colours and harmonious aromas calm my thoughtful mind; appeased by blue and green, mellowed by jasmine and rosemary. Are you going to Scarborough Fair? A round window trickles soft light through a paper flowered moon, a tapestry of whimsy and care, I close my eyes. I am in a far away land, transported by the melody that inspires me. I tune out any lingering skepticism, and let the music of Claude Chalhoub aid in my sweet surrender. I am in a warm and richly textured tent, deep colours, beautiful bountiful women in layered silk, chime softly, and move gracefully all around me - beckoning my ego, my worry, my doubt, using the palms of their hands to cradle their breath as they blow the dust away. I am vaguely distracted by the sound of Sue entering the room. I am feeling selfish. And I don't want to acknowledge that what I just experienced is over. So I stay quiet. Maybe she'll leave. Her gentle voice and mindful gait find their way to me, and she begins to remove the pins. This feels like nothing. Nothing at all. I am so relaxed at this point that I could lay there all day, adrift on thoughts that I rarely give chance to comfort me. "Were you okay during the session? Any sensations or discomfort?" asks Sue. Should I tell her about the tent and the women? Maybe she'll charge me extra, extra for unexpected pleasure and serenity found atop a busy midday Queen Street! This result after all was not noted on her site or in her pamphlet. I tell her about the tents and the women and with another pleased response, she exclaims: "Wow, that's so wonderful!" She means it too. Once all needles are disposed of, Sue treats my face to a therapeutic massage. My soul feels grateful for the session, my skin warm and stimulated, I am happy already. One down, nine more to go. Over the course of the next nine sessions I notice and learn many things. One is, what the palm is to a fortune teller, the tongue is to an acupuncturist. Before and after each session, Sue asked to see my tongue. She saw where I was weak, and when I was cool or warm. In our other words, she knew when I ate too much yogurt (damp), drank too much wine (heat), or which organ in my body required more attention. Yikes! At first I likened this to what confession must feel like, though, eventually, I found myself happily sticking out my tongue, awaiting a pardon that came in the form of good advice and knowledge. I was adopting prescriptions that were natural and successful, requiring only practice and good sense. And I also learned that while I did care about how I look, I was becoming more idyllic and optimistic about how I was feeling. Exuding this perhaps, also lent to the fabulous results I had achieved, and still to this day display. Sue had sent me home on separate occasions with two herbal face masks that promoted oxidation and circulation. "Food for the face," says Sue. My next take-home treat was a product called Frownies. A natural aid used for decades by many a Hollywood starlet, is simply explained on www.frownies.com as "facial smoothers or pads made from natural, skin-friendly materials that are applied to the forehead, corners of the eyes and mouth, to gently re-educate the underlying muscles to assume their correct, relaxed and natural tone. Frownies, in fact, allow the muscles to regain the strength and tone they have lost." Today, now three months since my last cosmetic acupuncture visit, I can tell you this: I'm a changed, changing woman. Not just because the tattle-tale lines of my smoker's past have been forgiven, and my circulation has improved, or that my sleep is getting better; and not just because I am drinking more water, trying to eat better and wanting to exercise more, or that my complexion has taken on a dew-like glow that is luminous by noon, or that I feel healthfully empowered and more practically aware, but because -acupuncture has taught my skin and spirit to do one thing better. Relax. Even my furrow has lost its burrow.