Luxurious Me

To celebrate my birthday a few weeks ago, I dragged a friend with me to the spa for a day of pampering. If you've never done this, I highly recommend it. Really, who doesn't like having people running around you, tripping all over themselves to get you anything your heart desires? Add to that cute men giving massages and as much wine as you can drink and you've got yourself a winning combination. I've done this spa day thing for my birthday a number of times at this point, as it's hard to think much about getting older when you're being made to look and feel like a Hollywood star, but I've never brought a friend with me to join in the fun. Or keep telling me how much younger I was looking. Whichever.

So on a Saturday morning, we set off to be beautified. We were led upstairs to a waiting area, where the first thing we were asked was what we wanted for lunch. I love anything that starts out with food. That and changing into robes, since I try not to get out of my pajamas for any longer than necessary. Our first appointment was for massages. While my friend filled out some paperwork, the guy who was to do mine entertained me (it didn't take much; I'm easily entertained). Paperwork complete, I followed Rich to a dimly lit room scented with lavender while my friend took off behind her masseur, Ryan. An hour later, half asleep, it was time to get up. "But I'm not done yet, " I insisted. Unfortunately for me, he had other clients waiting, so brought me a glass of wine, led me to the sauna, and eventually left me to sweat.

I'm not entirely sure what the purpose of a sauna is. I know you're supposed to sweat. Is that it? Is there not more to it? Seems like it would dry out your skin. I love the feeling for short periods, but if God wanted me to sweat on a regular basis, he would have made me a guy. My friend joined me and immediately announced that she would be continuing to see Ryan on a regular basis. Since she's married, I'm pretty sure this meant she would be getting regular massages. Having had enough sweating, we took our robed-selves out to a waiting area. Ryan, my friend's masseuse, evidently had no one waiting, as he came out to say hello (he's done massages for me in the past) and chat a bit. Having correctly identified us as troublemakers, he spent five minutes laughing at us until we were called for our mani-pedis.

Color choice, of course, is a vital part of the "getting your nails done" experience. Admiring the color on my technician's fingernails, I settled on a deep black/purple color. I have no idea what my friend picked. I had moved on to soaking my feet, which for me personally is the best part. I'm rough on my feet, and getting all that skin softened and brushed away is almost better than the massage. Also, it's less greasy. Just as we were getting ready to paint my nails, I found myself distracted by a bottle of polish left over from the last client. Hot pink. Woo hoo! I subscribe to the philosophy that everything's better in pink. Naturally, I had no choice but to change colors. Evidently, this did not surprise my technician, as she took the bottle while trying not to laugh. Because I'm nothing if not coordinated (my mother calls it OCD), I generally like my fingernails to match my toenails, so I soon had hot pink all around. 

Never known for moving quickly anywhere, we were a bit late for lunch, served to us in a cozy hideaway behind a curtain of the spa. This was not unlike being in front of the first class cabin on an airplane, and I took a moment to feel sorry for those on the other side who were not having an entire birthday of luxury. A short moment. Lunch passed quickly, and we were soon whisked off for facials.

Facials are one of those things you don't realize you need until you actually get one. I don't know what was happening in my friends room, by my aesthetician was digging and popping and picking all over my face. She quickly soothed it with steam and smooth moisturizers. By the time I left, It felt like a film of dirt had been removed. I joined my friend to soak up the leisure for a few minutes before we got dressed and had to acknowledge that was almost time to leave. Because I'll stretch out my birthday for as long as people will let me get away with it, I asked if there was an intern available to blow out our hair (I'd been given a heads up that this might be possible). Indeed there was, so we made our way to the hair studio and seriously had our day "topped off." 

Because no birthday is complete without sugar, we left the salon to stop at a desert shop on the way to the car. Choosing some treats to go, we brought them back to my house, where my current boarder happened to be at home. "Did you go to the salon?" she asked. One hopes that a visit to the salon is generally obvious enough not to have to specify, but since it wasn't, we agreed that we had, indeed, been to the salon. We dug into our deserts and soon had to end the day of luxury.

It's not every day that I can partake in such a day of pampering, and it was only possible thanks to a birthday gift from my mom. There's no better time than your birthday to be treated like a queen.