Just the word makes me melt. But not every spa service is relaxing. I’ve tried the mani-pedi, and I don’t like it. Oh, I like the results (they put a flower on my big toe!), but the process did nothing for me. I found it stressful to have a lady kneeling at my nude, gross feet. She snip snip snips away a bunch of dead skin around my cuticles, except it must not be dead, because it HURTS! And when she sloughs off all the scaly, callusy stuff from the bottoms of my hobbit-like feet? I dunno, I feel like I kind of need that stuff. It’s a protective layer. Many’s the night I’ve gotten ready for bed, only to discover a thumbtack or small pebble embedded in my sole. I never felt a thing.
I even had a facial once. I was on vacation in Jamaica and decided to treat myself (because a Jamaican vacation isn’t enough of a treat). I was bewildered by all the choices, so I asked the nice lady at the front desk which kind she recommended. “Oh, the ‘Fountain of Youth’ for sure,” she said.
Wow. OK. So, yeah. Still recovering from that, apparently.
Anyway, I found out I don’t really like people touching my face, much less slathering it with oils and lotions and other youthening products. Like the mani-pedi, this was not relaxing. Nor did I look any younger when I was done, LADY AT THE FRONT DESK.
No, I go to the spa for one thing only.
It’s totally therapeutic. I have back issues, and a deep-tissue massage about once a month helps keep things more or less in place. But “therapeutic” and “total body-dissolving pleasure” are not mutually exclusive. Oh, it’s so good, peeps. No, it does not have to hurt. Yes, you have to let go a bit. No, the massage therapist doesn’t care if you have a big butt. Yes, you will most likely drool.
I’ve had some bad massages. There was Pepe, a large woman with red hair who announced mid-massage, “I’m sorry, madam, I simply must go to the bathroom.” She did not return. Then there was Gisela, who forced me to remove EVERYthing and even after my shower wouldn’t let me dry myself off. “NEIN! I dry you!”
But I’m totally in love with my current massage therapist, who I shall refer to as “E” because that is the sound I make when she works her magic. E is the size of a 12-year-old gymnast and as strong as an ox. She digs her fingers into my shoulders, and little rockets of pleasure shoot to my scalp, fizzling and sizzling. Muscles unknot, tendons relax, even my hair follicles are noticeably looser.
I dream about kidnapping E and making her live in my basement, where she will give me a 90-minute massage every day.
Apparently there are people out there who have never had a massage. I don’t understand this. What’re you waiting for? It’s the best thing EVER. You don’t have to take off everything; you can even keep your socks on your gross hobbit feet. Make an appointment today. Just don’t ask for Pepe.
If You Want to Go to a Spa
Totally relaxing, never stressful