There aren't enough hours in the day. The clothes aren't folded out of the dryer. The kitchen floor is sticky. Your kid's hands are sticky. You're tired. Exhausted actually. You can't remember the last time you did something just for yourself.
And you think, "Spa! What I need is a spa day." And visions of tranquility, soft lighting, and Enya playing in the background drift through your pretty little head. Ah, the spa.
And it can be a restful and rejuvenating experience. It often is. But it can also be the jail warden masseur, artfully and painfully working the heck out of your board stiff back muscles. Or, like today, it can be the excruciating pain of a full leg and bikini wax.
Thank God I stopped at bikini line today. I don't think I could have taken much more.
I honestly am amazed at the lengths I am willing to go to for fashion. Why is it that I need to have clean-shaven legs anyways? Who says? Well, whoever says, I apparently listen. I don't tend to worry much about the legs during the colder months, but they must be presentable in the summer. So I get them waxed.
And it hurts. Especially the first time of the season. I was lying there today, trying not to scream, and thinking, "This is insane. I am paying someone to torture me." There is nothing restful about this spa trip. Hmm. Let's get this straight. First we pour hot wax all over the hairy areas, then press a cloth into it, then pull all the hair (if you're lucky) out by the roots. Fun times. The ankles are particularly bad. I also became acutely aware of the size of my thighs as the aesthetician worked her way around their girth. It seemed to take an inordinate amount of time.
There were numerous, "Oh! Sorry!" whispers from her. Didn't help.I was mega-tense by the time she was done. And the delightful red spots all over my legs were very attractive as well.
They do fade.
But at least now I have smooth, summer-ready legs. (And I won't have to shave every day from now til October.)
I decided to stop short of showing you the bruises along my inner thigh. Ouch.
Tomorrow, I go back for a pedicure. That should be a lot more relaxing. At least until the cheese grater thingy comes out to deal with my heels.
Wish me luck!