Clareified

Wow. That was some scary 30 hours there with no internet access. I walked around the area and found a public library, two blocks away.
The librarian probably thinks I’m psychotic.
“Do you public computers with the internet?”
“Yes, are you –”
“Gimmeee, gimmeee, gimmeee, gimmmeeee, gimmeeeeee.”
I’ve had quite the eventful morning already.
I was up at 8:30! A.M! That’s. right.
Yesterday, the girl I’m sharing a room with said she made an appointment to go to the spa, so I figured I should too.
Unfortunately, she didn’t mention that she made the appointment weeks ago, so I got stuck with the 9 a.m. slot.
Awesome.
I decided that I’d go swimming after my manicure/pedicure, so I got dressed in casual attire compleet with bathing suit underneath.
Uh and thank God.
And here, I offer a word of caution to the un-spa-initiated. You may think, ok, I am just here to get colorful polish painted on my twenty nails, so one would think all that would need to remain uncovered, would be one’s hands and feet.
Not so.
At the spa everyone is required to declothe and re-robe with their terry cloth bathrobes and slippers. So, with nothing but an inch wide string, keeping me from parading around in my altogether…bathing suit underneath became my bestest friend in all the world.
I sat in the “relaxation room,” gripping my front shut and clutching my knees together. I did not dare take a chance on using a hand for the cucumber adorned ice-water.
The pedicure lady was pleasant enough, but when her partner walked into the room, the perkyness quotient topped the charts.
This woman would not stop talking about her kids and their polo matches and her husband’s birthday and the company picnic and baking cookies and feeding the homeless and oh my gosh, wasn’t the sunrise this morning just amazing.
ARRRGGHHHH.
Once, she finished with my toes and nails, I was taking back to the relaxation room for them to dry.
I decided I would not get any thumbprints on my polish job this time!
The front desk clerk came by to tell me that they had a cancellation and if I wanted to, I could get a facial.
“Uhh…ok.”
“Terrific, Ms. Summers, follow me.”
I shuffled behind her, careful not to touch anything.
The facialist entered, told me to get under the sheets face up.
“You can hang your robe behind the door.”
WHAT THE —
The robe is in no way covering my face, what is the freaking obsession with nudity in these places!
I did not like the facial…it alternately felt like a mini sander running up and down my jaw bone or one of those dentist suction hoses pulling my face off.
All the while she explained something or another about crystals and dead skin and foliation.
(I loved her gasping when she asked how often I exfoliated at home and I responded with my patented “what now? I wash my face if that’s what you mean.”)
I went back to the locker room and I have to say, my face looks incredible! It’s like all glowing and stuff. Of course, it also feels like it’s on fire…so maybe that’s where the glow is coming from.

This entry was posted by Dawn Summers on Friday, September 15th, 2006 at 2:55 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.