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The Obagi Blue Peel and TCA Demystified

This mystical, shimmering mermaid dips and darts beneath her private lagoon. Listen, Pisces to the whisper of the shell. Your purpose is here, in the deepest blue of the inner mind. Surrounded by a garden of moonflowers, you dwell in poignant waters, and desire fulfillment in the present moment. What beguiling ways you possess --- veiled in mystical thoughts and vulnerable to illusion.

Every tangerine sunset calls you to romance, which is ultimately your own net; but unfailingly you answer, as twilight casts the most mesmerizing spell over you. You cannot live without the energy of flowers and haunting music. Candles and incense glow continuously on your shell altar. You skimmed through the foam of the harsh world to magically create an abode wrapped in sea colours. As a poetic soul, you mend broken hearts. How sad that you can be used by others in love --- the very area you excel in.

What would be your home but an underwater cave, piled with shipwreck treasures; nature gatherings; driftwood hung with silver jewels? You breathe out the fragrance of Jasmine and Sandalwood. You clasp pearls to your glittering breasts and are mesmerized by green jewels. Your colors are that of the sea --- gold-dusted emerald, sapphire, and a touch of moon-violet. Your lips are Eden pink and your beguiling eyes are shadowed with blue pearls. and your red-gold hair flows to the depths of Neptune. Transparent fabrics ripple over your bare and lustrous figure, outlining the ancient siren that men have died to capture. You are not dressed but swathed, so that nothing binds. Toe-rings and ankle-charms reflect visions of sea-jewels. Pisces draws the imagination of others and seduces them to drown in a world of magical exotica.

Be ever so careful of those who would smash your creation, and remember you are favored with psychic curiosity.

The one thing I recommend you buy: Imitate the lagoon in your bedroom and bring here those who were caught in your net. This is paradise. Unforgettable.

Notes for her lover: massage her light and sweepingly with night-scented essential oils. Use a real silk massage mitt. Light up the boudoir with creamy white candles, a mini-aquarium, floating water plants and tease her with a string of pearls and a powder-puff. She moans for sensuality.

Esmerelda Jones

The fragrant summers of the Australian bush arose in me the earliest passion for the pleasures of life. Romance, beauty and love are arts to be courted, and in all these matters I write what I have experienced in the senses.

My childhood bedroom, a watercolour lavender, was heady with ambrosial writing, further spiced by desire. It is for those wanting to languish in fully ripe romance that I write. They will find in the daily rush and bleakness there exists a private boudoir of the mind; where vivid silk and subtle satins defuse our stress, and problems are eaten like fat mangoes.