A Day of Pampering….
Posted by Jeanne Adams Dec 8 2011, 12:24 am
As we drove home from our Thanksgiving travels, my darling DH asked me what I wanted for my birthday (today) and for Christmas. Ahhhh, prezzies! I love the holidays! I love my birthday! PREZZIES!!! Hahahah!
However, I confess that I was stumped. Books are always good, of course. Socks – gotta love thick woolly socks. I got a new robe last year – divine – but I could use some new PJs, I told him.
“What about a spa-day?” he asked, eyes focused on the road as we drove home.
Color me dumbfounded. He’s not suggested this in a long time, mostly because the last few years seem to have been a blur of kids and baseball and…well, needless to say that was a “dating present” rather than a “married present” if you know what I mean. I actually had to think about it for a bit, and told him so.
Spa day. Hmmmmm. Would that mean…..Massage? The thought of THAT perked me riiiiiiight up.
Ohhhhhh yeah, I thought. I could USE a massage. My back is currently akin to rebar and concrete, or perhaps granite and steel. So a massage? I was thinking YES, Please!
But as soon as I thought it, that other part of the Spa-Day-Ritual-Thing leapt to mind. Manicures. Pedicures.
Now don’t get me wrong, I LOVE a good manicure. I love the colors, the fabulous, fabulous colors of fall and winter nail polishes. My favorite OPI polish – the ones with the fabulous names – are all fall and winter colors. Bogata Blackberry is a delicious deep claret color. Can You Tapas This? is a rich red-brown with little glints of gold. Suzi Loves Cowboys is a truer brown, but still with that luscious burgundy glow. Ahhhhh. Nothing like a fresh coat of color on the nails to perk a girl up, right? So you’d think I’d LOVE a professional manicure, right?
*Tacky buzzer sound* Wrong. I hate the scrubbing and rasping and clipping. I really dislike it when five women in one row (the manicurists) are having a running, laughing conversation with one another in a language only they know, leaving us (the customers), sitting there like wallflowers feeling as if we’re the butt of the joke. I don’t like taking my rings off – or being glared at because it’s one of “those” days and I CAN’T get my rings off. I also have a very (did I mention VERY?) hard time sitting still long enough for someone to do all the stuff they do to my hands in order to just polish my nails.
I verge on hyperactive. Really. (Ya’ll would never have guessed this, right?!) If I’m writing, I’m okay because I’m engrossed in the story. But sitting with my hand in dish soap or some like-substance, being ignored as if I were a horse being shod, just really doesn’t keep me riveted. A bored Jeanne is a restless Jeanne. That’s trouble brewing right there. Wiggle-wiggle-shift-shift, and after all her hard work, I usually screw up at least one nail before the manicurist even finishes my hands.
And then, there’s the pedicure. *Shudder*
Many, many, many of my fellow women – deep, close friends even! Fellow Banditas! - ADORE this process. And I do mean ADORE it. Weekly sessions. Raptures over the shaping, soaking, scruffing, lotioning and so on.
“Ohhhhh,” they moan. “Don’t you just loooovvve when they do your heels?”
Ummmmm….actually, NO, I don’t.
I’m abominably ticklish. My feet are ultra-sensitive, and someone gripping them like a starving man grips a wet fish makes me wince in discomfort. Oh, and I had foot surgery a few years ago. (As an aside, never, ever do this if you can help it. It never fixes anything, it just screws things up a different way.) So no matter how much I tell the poor little technician to be careful, she usually smiles, nods with no comprehension, and hurts me anyway. Really hurts me. Not just the pinch-and-snip or rub a little-too-hard pain, but real OUCH! pain.
This is not bliss.
Now, I will say, I have had good pedicures. Really good ones where, had I lived in that city I would indeed have gone back to THAT technician again. (Have to confess that if the local spa had chairs like those cushy brown things, I’d probably be inclined to try them!) Alas, all the good pedi’s I’ve had have been when I was out of town, being “treated” by a friend. Thankfully, in their company, I did! Now if I could just get the pedi gal from Ft. Worth, TX to move to DC…
One friend who knows of my difficulties suggested I do the fish-pedicure.
I nearly ran shrieking in horror. The first time I heard about this, I literally had nightmares. My writer’s mind conjured up alllllll kinds of ways why this was wrong, could be deadly to mankind and perhaps even the galaxy. Yuk. No thank you.
All of this raced through my mind as I mulled over the possiblity of a Spa Day as a birthday present.
“Could I pick my services?” I asked Hubby quizzically.
He looked panicked, “Of course. I mean, you didn’t want me to surprise you with some out-there kind of wrap or cleanse or something, right?” I nearly choked on my Diet Coke as I considered that, and I’m sure he was having things sieze up at the mere mention of wending his way through esoteric treatments like peppermint wraps, and eucalyptus brushings. *SNORK!!*
I told him general was good, and he looked pleased, so I’m anticipating that my Birthday Card will include a lovely gift certificate to my nearby spa for “General Services.”
We switched drivers not too long after that and I turned on the seat heater to keep my back from screaming and prepared to bully through Holiday traffic. The vision of a 90 minute massage nearly had me drooling as I drove. I spent the next hour of monotonous highway contemplating what kind of massage I would select….
Hot stone, perhaps.
Have you ever done one of these? O.M.Gosh. I had one last winter, thanks to another gift certificate, and when the massage therapist was done, I wasn’t competent to drive home. You could have scraped me off the table with a spatula I was so relaxed. Stupid relaxed, as in non-functional. The only brain cells firing were those focused on emitting celebratory groans of delight. I had to go next door to the Starbucks for water and coffee, and sit for 45 minutes before feeling grounded enough to get behind the wheel. Seriously.
Another time, at a marketing conference, I skipped class and had a deep tissue massage with what they described as a “warm finish” – another OMGosh/droolworthy experience. The deep tissue isn’t exactly…pleasant. It’s hard. And it breaks up the crunchy knots and awful tensions, and leaves you feeling pummeled, unlike the rather lovely, Jello-like pile of goo that other massages can turn you into.
The “warm finish” however, made all that irrelevant. The therapist wrapped me in a warmed sheet, then put a heated blanket over me, put extra lotion on my hands and feet and slipped them into warming mitts and footies, then proceeded to do the whole warm-mud-mask thing on my face. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven, despite the aches from the deep tissue work. I slept like someone hit me with a rock – rare, when away from home – and the next day? Lordy-dee I was a new woman.
I’ve never had a shiatsu massage or Swedish – other than the ever-delightful Sven – but I’d like to try it. I’d love too, to try the bit where someone (well-trained) walks on your back. The way my shoulders feel right now, my back would take that kind of pressure and laugh at it, forcing the therapist to either get a hammer and put me out of my misery, or perform a samba worthy of Dancing With The Stars before it began to relax.
What about you? Do you love a good Pampering?
What’s your favorite? Do you love the whole mani/pedi thing? A massage, or The Works?
Is this a “treat” or a “must-do” for you?
Have you had your nails done with all the new fancy tippings and stylings and designs?
Real or acrylic?
Would you do the fish pedicure? Anyone done it? (Tell all….)
And last but not least….Have you been Naughty or NICE this year? The 12 Days of Bandita Christmas are coming soon!!! Are you ready?? Lots of prezzies and prizes, recipes and fun. Stay tuned and get your stocking ready…
Posted in Jeanne Adams, Massage, Pampering