“I’m a model, you know what I mean
and I do my little turn on the catwalk…”
-Right Said Fred

A day at the spa and I think I am so relaxed my body is half jelly and half pure exhaustion. It is a lot of hard work getting princessed up. Four hours of TLC and I had to hit Starbucks on the way home for an iced latte to pep myself back up (And hello? ICED latte. It’s finally warm enough for an iced latte!).

When I arrived, the facialist lead me back into the room and she instructed me to remove all my jewelry and told me where I could hang my clothes. Hang my clothes? “Um, this is for a facial, right?” I asked. My husband had deliberately avoided such things as massage when selecting my treatments for today because I don’t particularly enjoy having random people touch me (I know, you probably didn’t sense that about me, but yeah…). My last massage was ten years ago, and the massage therapist spent the whole time telling me that I needed to drink more water, and it felt more like a lecture than an enjoyable experience, so… I haven’t repeated it.

So, back to my naked facial. The facialist assured me that yes, indeed, this was a facial. I’d hop my naked self between these heated blankets and pull that up to about armpit height, and that the facial did involve some massage. Oh-kay. News to me, but once I slid in between those heavenly warm blankets and she started with the facial and the massage, I really didn’t mind the whole touchy-feely thing. I find it hard in general to completely relax my body, but after the first twenty minutes, my mind just went blank, and I nearly fell asleep. When she told me it was over, I was just mush and it took me a few minutes to peel myself off the table to get up and get dressed again. Heavenly.

I figured I would stop in the restroom before my pedi – figured I didn’t want to wait until my feet were submerged in the warm, bubbling water to realize that, “Oh hell, I have to pee!” While I was in the restroom, my cellphone rang. Shit – it was my boss. I debated not answering it, as I realized as I was standing there that I had forgotten to tell her that I wasn’t working this afternoon and that I’d be hanging at the spa. Whooooooops. Not particularly brilliant on my part – and I answered the phone with the new-agey spa music in the background and had to fess up that, hey, I’m about to get a pedi, whassup?

Go figure she was calling to tell me I was getting a raise.

No joke. I sat there in the pedicure chair feeling a bit like shit – but we’ll talk tomorrow, and it’s all good. And hey, I’m getting a raise – unless she changes her mind because I was at the spa.

The pedicure was awesome. It was followed by a manicure, also awesome. I picked a weird pink color for my nails which I don’t totally love. After the mani, I was letting my nails dry waiting for the hair person to come get me. You know, my dad did say “gay spa”… I loved the guy who did my hair – he was fun and bitchy and did a great job on my hair. There was a guy getting his hair done and brows waxed directly behind us, and when that guy left, my stylist called the woman who was working on Pretty Boy over. He then asked her, “How did you not throw your mirror at his head? What an ass!” Though this wasn’t entirely professional behavior, not in the slightest, it was amusing. I didn’t mind. I think my stylist nearly got carpal tunnel blow drying my hair, but it’s all good and I tipped him well (and I may even go back because he made me laugh and that’s good).

To cap off my day, I got my make up done. She did some awesome work with the concealer to make me look like I actually got eight hours of sleep last night, and then did some fierce eyes – which was awesome because I just can’t do that kind of shit. I looked in the mirror and felt hott (yes, two t’s, hott).

I came home, changed into clothes to head out to dinner in (and no, we didn’t go to Chili’s – we had a nice Italian dinner). I didn’t take 401 pictures – but I did take 39, and I have to say that even now, in my jammies as I’m chilling and getting ready to call it a day, I’m still blissing and still feeling pretty and amazing. Ahhh.

(And for Holly – one picture. Of the back of my head).