A Spa Tale

This is going to be one of those oddball story posts. I started laughing at this memory yesterday, so I thought I would share it with all 4 of my readers. Trinity and I have been traveling lots lately, and it seems that most hotels have hoity toity spas. Now I love a good spa treatment. I have actually had a couple of facials lately, and they are marvelous. I also enjoy going to my local strip mall nail salon for a pedicure where I'm sure the women are chattering in Vietnamese about my giant feet with finger-like toes.

Now back to my story. Whenever we go anywhere, I always check the menu of delights that are generally overpriced and are described in a way that sounds more like a food or beverage than a treatment. Avocado masks, cucumber infused oil pedicures, etc. generally try to convince women to part with their moolah for a few moments of pleasure and relaxation. I don't usually do this, but I will gladly accept these experiences as gifts.

This brings me back to 2001, when I had the spa treatment that nearly killed me. I was a senior in college, and had received an amazing spa "experience" including an hour Swedish massage and a 45 minute Peppermint Oil Body Wrap as a gift. The giver shall remain anonymous to protect his/her's safety. Let's just say, the massage was not the problem.

I will never forget those 45 minutes as long as I live. I will share them in detail. The woman walked me back to a lovely room that was illuminated with candles and fragrant and fabulous. So far, so good. She told me to strip except for my undies. Again, no red flags yet. I wasn't in Amsterdam, so I had no reason to be concerned. She then returned and opened the lid off of a device that resembled a crock pot and removed what looked like a small tan towel. Wait...no that's an Ace bandage. What?

It was warm and moist, as it had been resting in that pot, which will now be referred to as that "Cauldron of Terror." She began to wrap it around my toes, around my foot and then it stopped just above my ankle. I was growing concerned. This was a spa, not my high school locker room. I was not getting my ankles taped for volleyball practice. She then reached into that Cauldron of Terror and pulled out another one. That one wrapped up to my undies, encompassing my shin, knee and thigh. Oh my God. This was not feeling good. Repeat on the left side.

Then she did the same on my right arm, starting with my fingertips and moving up to my shoulder. Repeat on the left. Then came the torso. Oh my I was really starting to wig out. Now why didn't I just say "Stop, I'm done!!!!!" Well, now I would do that now as an almost 32 year old mature woman. Please recall that I was merely 21 years old and was embarrassed to speak up. This was a chic-chic place and I was clearly just being a weenie. Actually I was a weenie. I was literally being trussed into a sausage casing.

It gets worse. My torso was wrapped up to my neck. My entire body was completely covered in Ace bandages. I had been mummified. Those damn wraps were tight. And wet. I wondered how in the hell this was intended to be an enjoyable experience. That She-Beast prattled on about how college was for me and yada yada yada. Then she left the room and returned with a giant piece of aluminum foil. That's what it looked like, but I guess it was some sort of metallic like blanket. She wrapped that around my entire body, burrito style. Oh sweet Jesus, what had I done to warrant this?

It looked like this-

minus the pleasant face.

Then she wheeled over a heat lamp!!!!

I'm not kidding. It glowed red like the eyes of the devil himself.

She carefully positioned that piece of hell on earth over me

and

LEFT THE ROOM!

For eternity.

Okay, it was probably more like 15 minutes.

The heat was causing the oil to evaporate from the wraps, apparently taking my toxins (and my soul) with it. I felt like the chicken nuggets in the holding pen at Chickfila, but smelled like an old Starlite mint that had been left in the car too long.

What did I do?

I distinctly remember trying to calm myself by continuously singing "Dutchman, Dutchman" which was a song my mother used to sing to me to make me fall asleep as a child. The whole traumatic experience had caused me to revert back to infancy. It was quite sad.

Finally the woman returned, removed my wraps and sent me on my way. As I left she asked what big event I was attending that evening? I looked dazed and confused at her. She then explained that the Peppermint torture treatment was intended to purge toxins and help you lose inches temporarily. It was a quick weight loss trick! The giver had not know this, or maybe shim was trying to send me a message.

I left with fewer inches and less brain matter.

I implore you readers, resist a wrap at all costs!