At the very least it will save you a few yen on a Japanese nightingale poop beauty treatment. Yes, blog fans, it’s a feces facial, and you don’t even have to travel all the way to Japan to get one. You can shell out a few hundred U.S. dollars right here in America – the exact amount, I assume, depends on the pedigree of the poop – to have someone rub dried bird excrement on your face while someone in the next room is trying to enjoy some good old fashioned aromatherapy.
And here I thought the biggest hardship I was going to face next week after I wing my way over the International Date Line to the land of the rising sun was figuring out what day it is. (It’s enough of a challenge to keep track when I stay home!). Now, every time I see a geisha shuffling by with skin as soft as a baby’s behind I’m going to have to resist the temptation to plant some extra strength laxatives in a birds’ nest and remind myself to keep my mouth closed as I lie on the ground below and wait for things to metabolize.
If I could only get past the idea of poop seeping into my pores (especially the ones close to my nose) I would pretty much turn all my future sightseeing excursions into spa trips – get a little more bang for my buck. In Rome, I’d take a dip in the Trevi fountain, maybe even dive for some spare euros while I exfoliate gratis in pigeon dung. (Supposedly, the Japanese steer clear of pigeon poop because pigeons eat all sorts of trash, not just seeds, but frankly, if I’m at the point where I can soak my skin in shit I don’t really care if it comes from a vegetarian.) I can’t even imagine how far the savings in spa treatments could go to offset the costs of my bucket list fantasy trip to the Galapagos!
If anything, I am open minded. If there’s a bluebird of happiness and wellness out there willing to do a fly by and crap out a good luck facial and shampoo on me for free, bring it on. All I know is I will never turn my nose up at a mud wrap again.
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