So this weekend as a treat for my partner I took her away to a Health Spa. It’s been a long, hard year and although I had my reservations I went ahead and booked out.
“An opportunity to forget your
worries, ease the pains and enjoy the blissful relaxation all under one roof”. Awesome let’s do it…
Well, the first issue I had was the phone booking. Here’s how the conversation went :
Customer Advisor: OK sir, your booking allows for full use of the facilities and 2 Treatments of your choice.
Me: That sounds good. What are the treatment options?
CA: Well it’s two from a neck, shoulder and back massage, a facial, a manicure and a pedicure.
Me: Erm ok well I think we’ll definately go for a massage. Errrr which one of the others would you say is most manly??
CA: Too be honest sir, if you want to be manly you shouldn’t really be going to a spa!
Me:……… Fair enough. I’ll have a facial please!
So the big weekend arrives and we turn up to the lovely hotel. Now I have no real issue with wondering around the place in a robe. In fact it’s quite relaxing. What I find bizarre is the social etiquette of Saunas and Steam Rooms. The we are sat in a hot room, minimal clothing with a bunch of strangers. Now I would happily sit there relaxing. Why do people feel the need to make conversation? I really couldn’t care less about your infected foot (don’t worry it’s healed now he says). At this point in time all I want to concentrate on is avoiding bodily contact with anyone in that room and then making a dignified exit as soon as possible.
Then the Jacuzzi. Despite the fact you spend the entire process trying to avoid your shorts blowing up like a balloon and exposing yourself to the 6 other people sharing the Tub, I enjoyed this. However what was noted was that for the slightly bigger busted woman this causes other issues. The bubbles cause their boobs to juggle about like popcorn in the microwave. It’s unbelievable and surely not comfortable?? – I would also like to add that it was not me who noticed this phenomenon. My partner was a amazed as I was and she pointed it out to me!
Finally, the spa treatment itself. This was what I dreaded the most. My fear stems from one particular incident while on holiday in Thailand in which I was persuaded to visit a Spa but was abandoned while there. I won’t go into details but the words ‘time to turn over now’ still haunts me to this day.
Well the lovely girls introduce themselves and ask if we are happy to have a joint treatment room? Yes please!! Things were starting to look up. What could possibly go wrong when Silje was there to support me??
Therapist: Ok we’ll start off with the massage and then go straight into the facial. Do you know what skin type you have?
Me: Er white I think!
Therapist: (clearly finding this amusing) No I mean do you have dry skin at all?
Me: Oh sorry. Erm sometimes I guess.
Therapist: Ok let’s get started….
Now I have to admit the massage was amazing. Table with a hole in it is the most brilliantly simple invention. I was drifting off and enjoying every minute. However just as I was starting to plan my next visit to the Spa in my head it happened:
Therapist: Ok can you roll over onto your back please?
Aaarrrrrrrggggggggghhhhhhh not again. This can’t be right. Memories started flooding back. The panic kicked in. Do I do as she says? Do I pretend I didn’t hear her?
Luckily for me Silje could obviously sense my fear. Maybe she was waiting for this moment. She must have seen the terror in my face as she calmly rolled over herself: “Time for the facial I think” she said.
Of course. The facial. I’d completely forgotten about that. Of course I need to be on my back for that….. AND I hate to admit it but it was amazing.
By the end I felt completely relaxed. I embraced something that is not natural to me and I would happily go back. I understand why people do it and maybe this is a turning point for me . I’ll embrace my inner woman and recommend it to anyone.
Oh and the best bit? The Swimsuit Tumbler. Seriously, a small dryer in the changing room for wet clothes. It’s absolute genius. 30 seconds and those dripping wet shorts are bone dry.
I wish I’d invented that…..