Oh my, look what my new acupuncturist gave me to boil in a gallon of water:
Yeeee! No more pre-made formulas for me!
I knew this guy was the real deal the second I walked in his office -- degrees/licenses in Chinese, complete with those little black and white Communist passport photos; cramped, packed to the gills space that looked more like a storage room than a place for medical procedures; a no-nonsense, super practical demeanor which meant he interrupted talking with me about my treatment in order to answer his phone. And most telling...everywhere you looked, paper towels.
Old school Asians love paper towels. Today my acupuncturist even used a paper towel with a rip in it as a stand-in for a disposable face rest cover on his massage table. I was stoked at his ingenuity. You know how much the real thing costs? At least $12 for a 50 pack. A roll of paper towels? Maybe $2.
In addition, my face rest was made of a block of foam with a crudely cut hole in the middle. Ugly, sure, but comfy.
Paper towels, practicality, and penny-pinching -- that's right, represent!
But lest you think these ghettofabulous touches were indicative of bad business, au contraire -- my acupuncture was top-notch, and my massage was better than some I've had at spas (and it was half the price, yo). And I got a personalized bag of crazy shit to boil down into sludge and drink twice a day.
Yes!
Yeeee! No more pre-made formulas for me!
I knew this guy was the real deal the second I walked in his office -- degrees/licenses in Chinese, complete with those little black and white Communist passport photos; cramped, packed to the gills space that looked more like a storage room than a place for medical procedures; a no-nonsense, super practical demeanor which meant he interrupted talking with me about my treatment in order to answer his phone. And most telling...everywhere you looked, paper towels.
Old school Asians love paper towels. Today my acupuncturist even used a paper towel with a rip in it as a stand-in for a disposable face rest cover on his massage table. I was stoked at his ingenuity. You know how much the real thing costs? At least $12 for a 50 pack. A roll of paper towels? Maybe $2.
In addition, my face rest was made of a block of foam with a crudely cut hole in the middle. Ugly, sure, but comfy.
Paper towels, practicality, and penny-pinching -- that's right, represent!
But lest you think these ghettofabulous touches were indicative of bad business, au contraire -- my acupuncture was top-notch, and my massage was better than some I've had at spas (and it was half the price, yo). And I got a personalized bag of crazy shit to boil down into sludge and drink twice a day.
Yes!
Labels: acupuncture, Asians: we're awesome
posted by Ammie at 12:11 AM
2 Comments:
and oh man, what a lovely aroma--something like annis, chicken broth, tea, dirt, and the breath of small dogs.
It tastes, however, like only the breath of small dogs, and whether I should be thankful of that or not, I'm unsure. Supposed to help my chi though, so kampai!
BTW, there's plenty of the black stuff in the fridge if you're feeling like a little chi-lovin'
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