Yeah, I came back home. For those of you into details, I’ll satisfy your curiosity. Mud wrap= Oven roasted Thanksgiving turkey in a bag. At least that’s the thought that came to mind after my body was slathered with a paint brush in minty smelling, luscious looking (yes, I peeked) mud the color of milk chocolate. It went on almost hot at first touch, but unfortunately cooled off quickly in a room that was a tad too cold. I didn’t need to fear, because as soon as I started to feel chilled, I was encased in a Goliath sized roll of Glad wrap and heavy, warm towels were put over me. Perhaps this was basting before I baked?
To be honest, I am claustrophobic and had visions of being wrapped so tightly that I would confess all my sins back to my childhood when I stole Halloween candy out of my brother’s trick or treat bag. Thankfully, the plastic was loosely wrapped and instead of feeling frightened, I really was able to doze a bit as I listened to relaxing Indonesian bell tone music being piped into the room. My body was supposedly de-toxing as the mineral mud oozed over every pore.
Unfortunately, just as I drifted off, however, it was time to “gently and lightly” rinse away the toxins from my body that I assumed were now firmly ensconsed in the mud. Does the word waterboarding mean anything to you? Admittedly the shower heads hovering over the rest of my body felt lovely. Warm and relaxing water pulsated over my body as the mud rinsed away. Unfortunately, however, water rinsing off my neck and chest splashed up into my face, causing me to wonder if I should admit to a terrorist act in order to be released from my cell in Guantanamo. The masseuse was kind enough to put a shower cap on my head, leading me to believe I still might look semi-human when I emerged from the sauna type room, but this was not to be.
As I toweled off and moved to the much drier room for a massage, I thought I would really relax and sleep this time. I’m wondering if they attach a pulse oximeter to your big toe so they can wait until your pulse and respirations drop and then shock you to wake you back up. Madam Masseuse decided it was time to massage my scalp…with the oil coated on her hands from massaging my back still in full force. To be fair, I think she made a halfhearted attempt to remove some of the oil because before she started, the room smelled briefly of Vicks Vapo-Rub. It was either that or turpentine, I’m not quite sure which. However, rubbing my oil slathered neck up into my scalp left me wondering how on earth I would be able to rejoin society. My daughter is Haitian. She needs her hair oiled. I am of German/British descent. I do not. As I said in a previous post, I have had many massages, but none were quite so oil filled as the one I had this time. Did the bottles have an expiration date and they were trying to use them up before they went bad?
After my massage was finished and I looked like a bird trapped in a Gulf of Mexico oil slick, it was time to slip and slide in my rubber sandals to another room for my facial with a different woman, hereafter known as Madam Facial. A breeze of warm, moist air wafted over my face which felt wonderful, but after cleaning my face, I felt the thick and almost sickeningly sweet aroma of honey. I like honey. I like it on peanut butter sandwiches. However, I’ve never worn it on my face. I am sure there are healing properties and had I asked, I would have learned that my skin once again needed to detox. I’m curious if there are AA meetings for skin.
After the honey came one cream after another, with most of them smelling minty. I think perhaps the spa got a good deal on mint scents in bulk during the after Christmas sales. As each one was removed with warm, moist towels that admittedly felt heavenly, another cream was applied. Next to last was one that smelled a bit like orange. I love oranges, but as my body prepared to indulge in the new aroma that was not mint, my face began to pop and sizzle. Not really, but whatever was in the orange cream proceeded to burn my face. Did Cindy surreptitiously pay for a laser peel for me instead of a facial? I know I have plenty of wrinkles from a life in the Arizona sun, but I wasn’t sure if this was how I wanted them removed. Thankfully the feeling of my face being broiled faded in a minute or two only to have Madam Facial also decide that my scalp needed a massage. Any remnants that I had left of a hairstyle completely vanished. As she ran her fingers over my scalp, she stopped and tugged at my ears as well which was a bit disconcerting. I don’t have any muscles in my ears that I am aware of that were manifesting signs of tension or stress.
As I changed out of my robe and back into my regular clothes, I looked in the mirror and wondered how on earth I could resurface in public. Witness protection program? I put on make up before I left, but short of a shampoo and blow dry, my hair was a hopeless mess that resembled an oily Rod Stewart or Mick Jaggar. Of course Cindy said it didn’t look that bad as she stifled a laugh….she has 5 times the hair I do in length and thickness so her oil slick was hidden in the hair that only touched the nape of her neck. Note to self: Do NOT go to a day spa in the future if you need to go anywhere afterwards other than directly home to a shower.
Thankfully Cindy’s husband met me briefly before we went into the spa, so I prayed he could remember what I looked like before he saw me again looking like I had been to Jiffy Lube. I must add here that Joe is every bit as wonderful as Cindy has described. No Joe, she doesn’t exaggerate. You are kind, gentle, intelligent, and handsome, and I am thrilled to see Cindy so happy in your presence. Since neither of you have a sense of direction, it was wise of you to rent a car with a GPS. I do hope you made it back to the airport and home and are not wandering through Home Depot’s parking lot for yet a seventh time.
Dinner was wonderful as long as I didn’t catch my reflection in any of the glass in the restaurant. Cindy insisted on a picture before we parted and I can’t believe I complied. Should she show it to anyone, I will spread rumors that her parents were never married. Thank you Cindy for the wonderful day away from kids, bills, the dog and life in general, and thank you Jeff for holding down the fort while I escaped for the day. You too are kind, gentle, intelligent and handsome and I am blessed to have such a wonderful husband.
Perhaps I am just not classy enough to appreciate waterboarding, burning skin and nostrils sated with mint. Next time let’s just save the money and have a long chat instead. I appreciate you emptying your 401K to pay for the experience and love you to death for your kindness and generosity. I’ll see you in Michigan in the fall when it will be my turn to treat. Maybe it should just be an hourlong massage with no scalp massages allowed and we’ll donate the difference to charity. 🙂