There's a mound of small, soft teddy bears on display at the door of the doctor's office, each holding small bags of jelly beans and signs that say "No more jelly belly." Inside, a bartender offers drinks and a catering team watches over tables of savory appetizers, welcoming new arrivals to the grand opening of this new medical "salon" called High Maintenance, which specializes in fat-reducing body treatments called mesotherapy and endermologie, which work to rid the belly, et al, of the jelly.
In the back room of the tony doctor's office off of Seven Hills Drive, demonstrations are going on. Five women stand, some holding empty little plates, watching Alayne Sterebeck, a massage therapist and endermologist, perform endermologie, as she rolls the arm of a machine over one of her colleagues, who's wearing "endermowear," which look like thick pantyhose. Sterebeck explains that the treatment moves toxins from the skin into the bloodstream and smoothes the texture of the legs, getting rid of cellulite and girth.
A few minutes later, the roles reverse as Sterebeck, an attractive young blonde, lays on the table of a different examining room, her tan belly and its jeweled button exposed. She's staring at the ceiling as Dr. Kochy Tang, whose hair is in large curls and sprinkled with glitter, pinches the thicker parts of the woman's stomach and sticks a syringe filled with yellow liquid into her flesh, staccato-style. Again. And again. And again.
This is mesotherapy (or "meso," pronounced mee-so, for short) and, at $350 a session, it's supposed to dissolve fat. Melt cellulite. Contour curves. Tang encourages a healthy diet and exercise in addition to the treatment. "This isn't by any means a substitute for eating that Big Mac instead of exercising," she says. But just in case you can't pass on the burgers, they have photos of a woman who's lost a few dress sizes with only this treatment and no lifestyle change.
So far, Sterebeck's had three treatments of this nonpharmaceutical substance and says she's starting to feel a tighter, smoother belly, with few side effects. "You can barely feel the needle, it's so tiny," she says softly, smiling, while the syringe pokes her stomach about 20 times, all over, drawing little beads of blood. But she does feel the itching that follows the treatment, swabbing at her belly with an alcohol pad to soothe it, and explains that the itch will continue for about an hour.
Meso has been used in France since the '50s, where studies have shown that it's an effective treatment. But it only recently made its way to America, and no such studies have been done here. That makes some of the medical community skeptical. St. Louis plastic surgeon Dr. Leroy Young shared some of his thoughts with investigative TV show 48 Hours.
"Part of the problem with these types of therapies is they often get promoted by people without good solid scientific proof that they actually work," Young says. "I think the only place fat melts is on the grill."
Down the hall, sitting on comfortable beige leather couches in a soothing waiting room next to a waterfall, a handful of women snack on fruits and vegetables and a less healthy spread of fried hors d'oeuvres that look like potstickers, pizza rolls, mini quiches and skewered chicken. While waiting for more arrivals, employees of the salon sit around eating and talking about celebrities. J.Lo has cellulite. Naomi Campbell wraps her legs in coffee grounds and cellophane to counter the lumps.
A patient named Christine says she's had 16 treatments. She had back surgery a year ago and put on a lot of weight. She seems to be satisfied with the treatments. "I'm getting smaller," she says. As testament to her shrinkage, a book of photographs appears. There's a picture of Christine when she first arrived, wearing a pair of granny panties, her legs covered in pock-like cellulite. On the next page, a slimmer, smoother, more recent Christine wears a thong. When asked how much longer she'll be coming for meso, she answers in a not-so-jellied belly laugh. "'Till I'm happy."