Yesterday, in celebration of Mother’s Day, I checked into a spa resort with my best friend for 24 hours. The spa’s slogan was “arrive in pieces, leave whole.”
All I could think was that’s a lofty promise. Could the seafoam smoothie body wrap I was about to get be that good? Did I need to add other services? Was it the pause from the everyday chaos that would transform this tired mama?
Spoiler alert: it wasn’t the body wrap. It was the hydro-massager – the only spa service that still had availability. Think massive black leather recliner with powerful, roving waterjets built in. I booked the two of us 20-minute sessions.
The spa attendant got me situated first. She showed me how to adjust the pressure and change the massage zones. I’d already decided to let it run as programmed. I was taking a break from making decisions.
The jet-streams started at my feet, kneading my calves before working their way upward. And then something weird happened. It blasted my butt. Literally cheek-jiggling, shake, shake, shake your booty kind of action.
I erupted into laughter. I looked over at my friend and saw the attendant was still with her explaining the controls. I tried to mask my cackle as a cough. This too will pass, I thought. Soon it will be onward and upward.
When we were alone, I warned her, just wait. But with that warning, the jets made their way back down to my booty. I was hysterical. I wasn’t quite sure how to stop it. Did I even want to? When was the last time I laughed so hard?
I left the jets running, surrendering to my silliness. I’d look over at my friend each time it hit my butt and we’d both laugh. Finally, when I was down to 2 minutes left, I decided enough was enough. I pushed a bunch of buttons and managed an anti-tension redirect to my neck and shoulders.
But the memory lived on. We laughed about the booty massager all night and even today. I walked into the gift shop on my way out of the resort hoping for the shirt they didn’t carry, “I got a hydro-massage. And I LIKED it.” I may make one for my friend’s birthday but don’t tell her.
I had found a missing piece of myself – my silly side. The pause and pampering also filled me with gratitude for being able to be me. I drove away whole.