Wednesday, February 22, 2012

I had a couples massage WITHOUT my husband

Spoiler Alert:  It was my daughter.  I was going to drag it out, but I just can't do it to you.  So if you're too disappointed in the lack of scandal to read the rest of this post, then I totally understand.  But Spoiler Alert #2? Strangers saw me naked.  Will that keep you reading?

(I knew it would.)

Bailey is leaving today for her annual ski trip with her Dad, so yesterday we enjoyed our annual "Special Day".

Bailey's "Special Day" is a day devoted to us doing whatever she wants to do.  It's morphed quite a bit through the years as she's gotten older.  At first, it was Chick-Fil-A.  (My, those were the good ole days!)  Then it was Build-A-Bear, then Chuck E. Cheese, then American Girl Bistro, then roller skating, and then bowling.  But this year, she asked for a spa day.

Can you hear the angels singing or it that just in my head?


*Sniff, sniff*  I'm sorry.  I, I don't mean to get emotional on you... It's just... *sniff* It's just that I've waited for this day for so long.  *Wiping tear*  And I thought it would never come. *sniff*

Needless to say, I jumped on that idea faster than the Real Housewives jump on a Botox party.

Bailey gives a thumbs-up for spa days!  And if you could see me, I had 47 thumbs up.
Yes, I know that I only have 2 thumbs.  IT WAS METAPHORIC. 


I decided to book it like a couples massage so that we would be in the same room.  I thought it was best after Bailey almost cried when I told her about undressing to her "comfort level".  I quickly learned that her "comfort level" is a turtleneck, pants, boots and maybe a hat and gloves.  GOOD GIRL.  Keep it that way until you're at least thirty-seven.

When we arrived, they took us to our room for our romantic afternoon.  They had flowers and chocolate covered strawberries waiting on us.  Apparently somebody missed the whole "mother-daughter thing" I said when I booked the couples spa day.  We must have looked like a pretty ill-suited couple.  They looked at me the same way that I looked at Anna Nicole Smith's husband who was, like, 242 years older than her.  Pfft. PERV. 

Bay kept talking about skiing the Black Diamond slopes again this year.  Hey, kid.  It's kind of hard to relax over here while you're talking about stuff that could GET YOU KILLED.  I'm probably the only person to have a panic attack during a massage. 

The massage was great, but I could have used some more relaxing music.  If LMFAO ever made a spa record, this would be it.  Could I get something with a little less.... oh, I don't know... club mix?

After the massage, the therapist said something as she walked out the door.  Unfortunately, all I heard was "blah, blah, wah, wah, waaahhh."   The good news is that I've figured out where Charlie Brown's teacher goes between the Christmas and Thanksgiving specials each year.  That, or my brain was too relaxed to comprehend actual words.

I got up to get dressed, but I decided to snap a picture of Bailey under her spa covers first.  BECAUSE THIS BLOG IS IMPORTANT.

This is as good as it gets, folks.  Apparently the Ghost of Embarrassing Present decided to jump in this pic.


About that time, our two masseuses walked in with our hot towels.  OOOOHHHH.  SO THAT'S WHAT THEY WERE SAYING.  They were coming right back with hot towels... Gotcha. 

Too bad for them, my "comfort level" was a small teal thong and an awkward smile.  Ahem.

It will take years of expensive therapy to erase their looks of horror from my memory.  Then I'll be able hide this embarrassment in the same place that I've carefully hidden the middle school dance and my first hunch punch party.  It will be just like it never happened. 


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7 comments:

  1. Nice post Amanda!Thanks for sharing this!

    ReplyDelete