Janet and Louisa

"Vagina Facials!" She said, at top volume. Other people in the restaurant looked over at us. It was embarrassing. 

"I make money selling the kits," she said.

I couldn't believe this was my friend Louisa from childhood spouting these pseudo-science placebo gimmicks. She now lives in Hinsdale Illinois. Her clients are wealthy housewives with horses and whose children attend private schools. 

She wore pale pink cashmere and a string of pearls. Her manicured nails were also pink. I studied her diamond engagement ring as she waved her other hand gesturing to the waiter that she'd like a refill on her goblet of organic rosé. Her tiny earlobes had diamond studs. I drank seltzer with an orange slice.

"But wouldn't 'facial' imply a face?" I asked. 

Ah never mind. You're kidding me. She drank the Kool-Aid, she was now a saleswoman chasing the big bucks. But the startling thing was she wanted my approval. I am a research scientist with 20 years in the medical field. I have a master's and a PhD. So what is this really about?

"Did you know coffins used to be sold at my great-grandfather's Hinsdale hardware store back in the day?" she continued. "In those days, embalming was not practiced, the family would just come in and select a coffin and bury the body themselves." Louisa stabbed the thin slice of ham on her plate. "Entrepreneurs run in the family," she said, as if trying on a new identity.

"Hey, Do you remember how our mothers acted like they could be fired by their husbands at any moment?" 

"I totally do!" I said.

"I didn't want to grow up and live like that." Louisa sipped her wine, leaving a red print on the glass edge. She checked her watch. "Oh, it's been great to see you. Come over for dinner some Sunday afternoon. My husband Alec loves to smoke a whole pig and have a cocktail party on the porch. We're doing another one in a few weeks."