Two weeks later, I’m back at the office for phase two: A facial. My first thought? “Sweet! Spa day!” I go in expecting to hear Enya playing and to be handed a plush spa robe. But right when I walk in, I notice how quiet it is. Not a good sign. I lie down on a hard table, and I’m engulfed in a stringent smell I can only define as “medical.” That’s when it hits me — this isn’t about relaxing.

After exfoliating and steaming my face, Tanya Eubanks, the facialist, starts to do extractions using her gloved fingers and a medical needle. Yep, it’s as painful as it sounds (kind of feels like she’s trying to squeeze off my chin). But the worst part is when I hear the noise of the needle pricking each cyst. It sounds like a tiny burst of air, which might not seem bad, but I can imagine all the gunk coming out each time, and it makes me cringe. By the time she applies a mask to reduce redness, I’ve lost all feeling in my face, and I’m thrilled I don’t have to hear the needle anymore.