Why expensive spa treatments are wasted on me
We recently returned from a few days in Sonoma which is why I have been silent (OK, real reason is I forgot my red brain (iPad), cuz plenty happened). While we were there I had a wrap at the spa. Not the ham and cheese type although I did have fish taco type at one point. This was the ‘lie in wet blankets’ type. My doctor had suggested it stating ‘if your body feels safe, your brain will feel safe’. Here is the conversation I had in my head while trying to be safe.
- I am all of a sudden aware that I am breathing slower than the therapist. Is that bad? Now that I am aware of my breathing I try to speed it up so that she doesn’t think I have sleep apnea.
- I almost hyperventilate.
- OMG an eyelash just fell in my eye. Blink it out. Crap! Still there. Close eye and try not to move eyeball for fear of permanent cornea damage.
- Do you know how impossible it is to close your eyes and not move your eyeball!
- At least I am not worried about my breathing anymore.
- I feel like a mummy. Not a ‘where is my sweatshirt?’ mummy. An Egyptian kind. Well, their kids need their sweatshirts too. I mean the kind you find in sarcophaguses. How do you spell that again?
- I think I would go with gold if I was to have a sarcophagus. Wood gets eaten by bugs too fast and what would be the point of having a sarcophagus if it is eaten? Silver tarnishes too quickly. Gold it is.
- I would like a carving of the kids skipping while holding hands on the top. In their hands is a ruby the shape of my heart. Not the real shape of my heart, because that is weird. The cartoon-style heart.
- There is no where to fart in the spa. I can’t fart here in a room with only one other person and the wet blankets would just make it worse. But when I get out of here, where am I to go? There is a washroom attendant and the place is so crazy quiet.
- Now I really have to fart. The discomfort is not making me feel ‘safe’.
- I think this woman lost track of time. She is spending an inordinate amount of time on my left foot. I am going to miss my next appointment. I really dislike incompetence. Especially at these prices.
- I wiggle my right toes and move my foot around to see if it triggers her memory. No change.
- Now she is running water. Really? That just makes me want to pee in my wet cocoon. At least my breathing is normal, I don’t have to fart anymore (it disappeared, I didn’t sneak one) and the eyelash has burrowed into my cornea so far I no longer feel it.
- Stop the running water!
- She puts a really cold cloth on my face and I go to object when I realize it is nice. It put me to sleep for a second until someone across the hall knocked on a door and I jumped (not really, just snorted myself awake).
- She is finally working on the other foot.
- Message received. Good job Kristine.
- When was the last time I shaved my legs?
- My lips are dehydrating. I don’t feel safe. Where is my lip balm!
- Now my eyeballs are dehydrating and I am acutely aware of their sandpaper-y-ness. That made me tear up. Problem solved.
- Finally she is done. Thank God!
Doctor’s orders – check!