It’s been a minute since this girl hit the spa. Although I am fanatic about weekly blowouts and never, ever, have chipped nails, massage has suffered. I had that corporate job that demanded constant attention and time, as well as weekends. Silly girl. Friendships and, evidently, massages were also affected. So on a particularly cold Saturday I venture to the resort that sits at the base of a famous mountain and promises serenity. It was a gift. Yay!
Hot stone has been removed from the menu which gives a girl pause. Word on the street is that someone threatened to sue over “too hot” stones. Big baby. If you can’t take the heat. Well, you know. Massage of the regular variety it is. It’s been so long, I’ll take Skittish Tabby walking across my back.
“Welcome. Mandy will take you back. Let us know if you need anything.” They speak barely above a whisper. While it is soothing, I find myself leaning in to make sure I don’t miss any instruction. A million years ago, I worked at a spa and was spoken to more than once about my lack of whisper voice. And laughing aloud.
Wrapped in a yummy robe, head to the waiting room. Wait. Where are the magazines? House Beautiful. Southern Living. People. There’s a half hour between now and my massage. What’s a girl to do?
There are no pockets in my robe and signage is everywhere, no phones please. I take a seat overlooking the outdoor water feature. Am I just supposed to delve into my thoughts. Really?
Casting eyes upon the water, I spy the rocks. There, covering the bottom of the reflecting pool are the basalt stones. I look longingly at the smooth rocks and wish them well. Are they sad they no longer have the job of making one feel divine but instead rest in a cold pond-like thing? Without the algae-we’re in fancy pants territory here.
I’m reminded why time alone with thoughts is dangerous. Conversations and anthropomorphism of rocks a prime example. Resting my head against the plump settee, the brain takes a little journey. How many cats can live in a condo before one would be a crazy cat lady? Where can I find a super cute bungalow with room for a garden? Not downtown and not out of The Dale either? It’s a conundrum. You’re supposed to be relaxing. Is my knee giving out? It hurts a little sometimes when I get up.
I gander about the room. Two girls have broken the cardinal rule, heads buried in phones. Will they be chastised? If so, who will do it? That one has really pretty hair. That woman will be sorry she took the iced tea when she has to pee halfway through her massage. Man, its cold for The Dale.
It only gets worse in the silence of the massage. Are there people in India who make that music specifically for spas? Who decided it was relaxing? It is, but still. I bet she thinks my feet are big.
“You carry tension in your neck and upper back.”
“Yes.” A lifelong curse.
“Try to just relax.”
Have you seen my brain? Pfft.
The Duchess Diaries 