Monday, June 29, 2015

Spa-ctacular

In light of a recent exciting judgement that has Facebook lit up with both rainbow flags and bibles, I have decided to write about something completely different.   I will not be adding judgement to judgement because you have seen my recent likes (#lovewins) and I have seen yours and we know where we stand. Rather, I thought we could all stand to hear about my day at the spa.  I may not have said more than twenty words all day while I was there, but boy was I thinking them!

My loving husband and children gave me a spa package at Lake Austin Spa for Mother's Day and I got the chance to use it this past weekend.  Luxury, right?  Yes.  But don't be jealous: you will get to retire one day and I will work until I die.  Seriously, you will be tan and fit from your retired lifestyle and I will be stooped over and inside my orthopedic shoes eight hours a day as I welcome people into Walmart.  Anyway, this was a very nice chance to be away, to be waited on and to just be quiet for a day.  Plus I got to wear a robe all day and use as many glasses and towels as I wanted!  This was truly luxury at its finest.

I was given a brief tour, handed my sandals and robe and left on my own to figure out what I was going to do.  I changed and headed up for my massage.  Just typing about it makes my shoulders relax.  There have been times I have gone for a massage and had a lot of trouble getting my brain to turn off.  It would pepper me with ridiculous thoughts or questions, things like "Is that my stomach?" or "Is she going to be a talker?  Please don't let her be a talker!" and "Did I turn the curling iron off??" and it would take me forty minutes to settle down and then the massage was almost over.  However, this time I told my brain ahead of time not to ruin it and the masseuse started with some deep yoga like breathing that made me initially want to giggle, but turned very soothing.  It was hypnotic and calming and, in turn, I was very calm.  I think at one point she had both elbows and maybe a knee in my shoulder at once but that was okay; it felt great.  There wasn't a kink left in any of my upper back.  I left there a little light headed and chill and headed down to my healthy lunch.

I will say it was a little weird to be eating alone, especially when lately the only eating I do alone is stealth chocolate eating as quickly and quietly as possible.  Also, it felt weird to have someone wait on me while I was wearing a bathrobe.  However, the food was great and healthy and I just listened in on all the conversations around me.  It was here that I noticed that everyone seemed to be here with a friend or a group.  I was really enjoying this being alone and being quiet and didn't feel bad being on my own.  I noticed another woman alone and as the day progressed and our paths continued to cross I realized quickly that while I was alone because I wanted to be alone, she was alone because she was a bitch.  She was rude to the staff, impatient in the Blue Room, critical of lunch and I heard her disparaging the towels.  The towels.  The white loops of heaven that were knitted from clouds and angel tears and in every corner, folded and ready for you to take a new one.  I could understand if she was disparaging of the threadbare, indiscriminately colored, slightly summer camp smelling towels we use at home, but here?  That is just one very unhappy woman.
Heaven: folded and stacked.


I had time before my next appointment and headed down to the pool.  There I sat and read a book without having to look up and count heads.  Bliss!  When it began to rain, I moved into the cabana.  When I got bored of the cabana, I moved back inside and thought I would use the hot tub.  The hot tub, sauna, steam room area is a clothing optional area and I'll admit, I thought about it.  However, I also thought about the glee the staff had in their voice when they said it was clothing optional and I just know that they are secretly filming and mocking every naked person in there.  I did not want to end up mocked at their Christmas party this year, so I left my bathing suit on.  Just as I turned to hang up my robe, a very naked woman slipped herself into the hot tub.  AHHHH!  A flurry of thoughts assaulted me quickly such as "What do I do now?" "Do I go in?"  "Do I not go in?"  "I really don't like saunas."  "Why is she even here?"  "This is my day!".  I decided to go in and walked in slowly keeping my eyes fixed on a point high above the windows and nowhere in her general area, the same way you would during a PAP smear.  The minute I sat down, and again it was nowhere near her and at no point did I sneak a look at anything, she harrumphed and boosted herself out of the pool.  That was nothing I ever, ever need to see again and I assure you, I will use a ladder every time I get out of a body of water going forward.  Shudder. 

Finally it was time for my last even of the day, the facial.  I think that the facial lady hated me instantly.  I felt her judgement as she looked at my skin and heard it as she mentioned my spotting.  I laid there with my eyes closed and listened to how she was going to have to use Vitamin C to do something about the spotting.  Yes, yes, I am a speckled as an egg, get on with the warm towels.  For the record, I know.  I am not sure why I am spotting all over my face in weird spots and I am using things to correct it.  I also choose not to look too closely; this is the same trick I use between threadings when I am rocking a unibrow.  The lecture was over and the warm towels began.  Ahh, relaxing contentment up until she started extractions which is a big word meaning pimple popping.  Yes, I can grow pimples and wrinkles at the same time, I am that talented!  I had my eyes closed but given the amount of pressure she was exerting I am pretty sure she had both elbows and one knee involved as she went about her business.  I then let this crazy woman at my face with a needle to extract some millia on my forehead.  Millia are apparently prehistoric pimples I have been growing since my teen years that never surfaced.  It didn't hurt, but it didn't feel good either.  She said I would have two red dots on my forehead while they healed.  She did not say it would look like a cobra bit me in my sleep.  She may have been disdainful of my skin, but she did a great job and my face was smooth and crazy young looking when she was done.  She handed me a list of what she used and pointed me to the gift shop and I thanked her and tossed the list out.  You know that if I can't get it at Target, I am not going to get it.

Sadly it was now time to go.  No more alone time, no more Blue Room with its squishy chairs that made reading perfect, time to go home.  I dressed back in my street clothes and left my robe and sandals in a neat pile.  I drank one more glass of water because it was minty and there and brought my number of cups used in one day to at least fifteen.  Plus one mug.  And forty-two of the most beautiful towels you have ever seen.  It'll be the memory of those towels that get me through my days as a Walmart greeter.  

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