Spa

For my baby shower back in November, James gave me a gift certificate to a spa near his work. It was good for a massage, facial, and foot bath, redeemable anytime after he feels competent enough to watch the baby for a few hours.

I redeemed it today.

Ahhhhhh!

I met James at his workplace and we switched cars - him taking the one containing the baby and me taking the other to the spa a few blocks away. As I was running a few minutes early, I stopped at a cafe next door for a cup of hot chocolate and a cookie as well as to put myself in a calmer frame of mind. Then I went over to the spa and checked in. I changed into a bathrobe and waited in a quiet waiting area until my massage therapist led me to my 30 minute massage.

I love massages. I love the tactile stimulation and relaxation, the luxurious feeling of someone kneading out all the knots of tension in my back and shoulders, the soft lighting and relaxing music, even the face-hole in the massage bed that allows me to lie on my stomach without having to turn my head to breathe. I used to get massages every month back when I was single, but traded that luxury in for financial responsibility when I got married. But James knows it's a safe bet that if he gets me a massage for Christmas or my birthday, he can't go wrong.

I went back to the waiting area with a large glass of water until my aesthetician came to lead me to my facial. I've only had one other facial in my life, and it consisted of a girl who didn't speak English spending the hour picking at my pores until my face was red and inflamed for days afterward. I wasn't looking forward to the experience, but this lady changed my opinion of facials. She applied gentle exfoliating masks and nourishing serums, all the while talking to me about my skin care routine and how I can best take care of my skin. She ended by offering to leave me some samples and suggestions for a daily routine that would keep my skin in its best condition. And a nice head massage. Mmmm.

Back again to the waiting area briefly, and then I was escorted to a small area with couches on high platforms, almost like a cushy shoe-shine station. Two other ladies were already reposed on two of the four couches, their feet soaking in individual copper basins on small tables in front of them. I chose an empty couch and soon the attendant came in with my foot bath of milk and honey with two flowers floating in the pool and warm stones in the bottom of the basin. She put a warm neck roll around my shoulders and lowered my feet into the steaming water. I relaxed and soaked for a while, and she came back to add more hot water when the bath had begun to cool. After a good soak, she came in with a pot of cold water infused with peppermint oil and offered to open my circulation by pouring it over my feet. Although it doesn't sound pleasant, the icy water was stimulating and invigorating and made the return to the bath all the more wonderful. I finally understand why people like to soak in hot springs and then jump in the snow (although still I'm not sure if I'm up to that kind of systemic shock).

After drying my feet and returning to the locker room, I spent a few minutes working up a deep sweat in the sauna. I could feel (and smell) the toxins seeping out of my pores, and when I started to feel rather overheated, I stepped out and took a nice relaxing shower before dressing and making my way slowly to the front desk. I'd left James with the baby 3 1/2 hours ago and was beginning to think I may have to return to reality. I called him on the way home to reassure him that I hadn't decided to take up permanent residence at the spa.

But I sure would have liked to.