Yes, I am a touch-me-not. I like to give hugs and get hugs, but deep down, I need my dance space ~ Think back to the movie Dirty Dancing and Patrick Swayze explaining “This is my dance space, this is your dance space.”
Back in the spring, my husband bought me a half day spa package.
So, you see, this was a big step, Miss Touch-Me-Not going to a spa, to let strangers put their hands on me.
The one thing that would have made the whole experience perfect was I had been able to take my laptop with me and someone had assigned a private room for me to work for the other half of the day. But all good things must come to an end.
Anyway, I arrive at Patrick’s of Atlanta (I’m at their Buford location) at 9 am. Of course, I realize as I’m getting out of the car, that I’ve forgotten the gift certificate. (You can lead a horse to water, folks, but you can’t make her drink). Everyone can give me a collective DUH – I can take it.
Luckily, every certificate sold is put in Patrick’s computer and they were able to call up my husband’s purchase. No problem the receptionist assured me.
Lisa greets me with a handshake and leads me to the back of the building through curtained French doors. Soft music and dimmed lights set the scene as I head to the room where I’ll get my facial.
Lisa tells me about their products, offers one of those microderm ebrasion (gee, am I even spelling that right?) deals, which I decide I’m not ready for. On the table, as I’m getting my neck and shoulders massaged and have this ooey-gooey good smelling stuff on my face, I bring up the fact I hate my eyebrows, that I pencil them in just to have the faintest definition. Lisa tells me her eyebrows are dyed. Lisa’s looked good and I liked the shape of them. I added a wax to having my eyebrows dyed. I put my trust in Lisa’s hands.
Did I mention Lisa is either Hispanic or Polynesian? Or maybe a little of both. I couldn’t decide. Anyway, I had no idea when I left the room a half hour later, that my eyebrows would be as DARK as hers.
I looked like a clown.
Oh well, chin up. I went out to face the public to have my pedicure and manicure done. The technician put a great parriffin wax on my feet that was simply wonderful. When she was through, I wished I had some where fancy to go where I could wear sandals and pretty rings.
( I wish I could remember the nail tech’s name, but for the life of me I can’t. Her little boy was sick and we talked about that. I hope he’s doing better. I’m sure it’s tough to have to show up to work when your child is sick at home)
She led me back through the double doors to the darkened area that was playing the soft music to have my Swedish massage.
I was really relaxed half way through this, as I confessed to the masseuse, Laura, that I’m a writer. Never mind I’m not published and really don’t expect to become published until I’m dead or at least 90 years old – whichever comes first – but I find out Laura’s a writer too. She’s writing something geared toward colleges along the psychology line. But she thinks writing fiction is harder than that (??). I encouraged her to join a writers group to network and connect with publishers, editors and agents.
Then I head over to have my hair cut. Christy did a fabulous job and gave my long hair some much needed layers. 2 weeks later and I still love the cut. I’d go back to her if she wasn’t so expensive.
Then I get to the front desk. Time to pay up. This was a gift certificate, you remember, so my husband had already paid for the bulk of it.
I added on that eyebrow waxing, the ill-fated eyebrow dying, and the hair cut. Add 20% gratuity on to that and I’ve just spent $137.
Have we been to the grocery store this week?
Is there anything in the freezer to cook?
Can we live on Mac and Cheese until payday?
How can I face my family!!!???
What two things did I learn from this experience?
1) Say no to having my eyebrows dyed again.
2) Leave the debit card at home.
Oh, but there’s a third thing I learned from all of this….
Even a touch-me-not can enjoy herself at the spa 😉