Loving your Job again

Only minutes later it seems, your alarm's invading your dreams and you're cursing your hangover underneath the jets of steaming water, as you try and wash away the muggy feeling clouding your vision. You remember the full column of treatments you have today, as you gulp down two Aspirins with hot, sweet tea. You silently pray it will leave your head thumping less and give you the sugar you need to face the day.

In the mirror you go the extra-mile with the Touche Eclat, and then drive to your dream jobs of 18 months in a trendy country 5* spa, in your car being paid for by the job you usually love.

Guests come and go, too wrapped up in themselves and the cocoon the spa creates to notice you, and thankfully your treatments run smoothly. You could definitely do without the slightly nauseating stomach. However your hands are magical, and your team is amazingly helpful, (because lets face it, we've all been there), and luckily the day runs...just.

However by the end of the day, you've sworn off alcohol to all your busy colleagues, and feel really guilty that they've all had to work extra hard to make up for your hangover. Your boss has spoken with you about making sure you are pulling your weight within the team, which left a big lump in your throat, but you apologise and promise to make more of an effort.

It's not until nine hours later when you arrive home, tired to the point of tears, that you remind yourself that this was entirely self inflicted. You don't practise what you preach, and that is the only thing letting you down - badly.

Right from when you decided that this was to be your chosen profession you religiously read all articles on beauty, and cut out anything mentioning a new treatment or product. The end result was a scrapbook that would make your old art teacher proud. All of these pearls of wisdom lovingly stored in one place, for your reference. You'd even started creating a plan for the ultimate girls nights in, with angelic fruit smootie recipes, and scribbles of deep-conditioning treatments and mini-pedicures, amidstt hundreds of shimmering votive candles. No one could say you weren't passionate about your job, its just lately you forgotten how much it meant to you.

Reliving the day in your head you thought about each client that stepped into your room: how they looked to you as a well of knowledge about looking good and feeling great. You may have said and done the things they wanted to hear, but you felt like a hypocrite in the process. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed the bags under your eyes, and the pallor of your skin couldn't take the toll of big nights out before work anymore. You didn't want to cheat anymore.

Settling down, you apply your favourite Eve Lom face mask and pour yourself a big glass of iced water, before reaching for you inspiration, your very own book of beauty. It makes you smile as you start turning down corners of all the best treatments you decide to lavish on your wonderful workmates, which you begin to send texts of gratitude to, thanking them for today.

As the mask slowly set on your face, you being to feel like the old you, as you make long-overdue plans for next Friday night: the one where you turn your home into a relaxing health spa for the night, prepared to spoil all the girls you spoiled the day for.

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