Life of luxury

Today, I added something new to my “what I’d do if I was filthy rich” list.

On the list already is a personal assistant to be organized for me, a driver who likes listening to Howard Stern and an old-fashioned popcorn maker (I would seriously marry popcorn).

but today...on the list...I have added monthly hour-long spa massages.

Oh yes! I got an HOUR-LONG MASSAGE today! How ever did I survive before this??? Ahhhhhhh

I’m a sucker for massages of any kind, just ask the chiropractors I’ve met at bars. Haha.

No, but really.

(Chiropractors, do yourselves a favor make up a new profession when you meet me, or else I’ll make you examine massage my traps.)

According to WebMD - the hypochondriac's source for diagnosing illnesses - my muscle aches are a combination of not stretching after the gym (too time consuming), constant stress (Me?? Neurotic??) and not owning a Tempurpedic bed. (Another item on my filthy rich list).

Thus, I crave constant massages. I thought I had a perfectly acceptable massage chair in my living room (the best thing from Walgreens, ever). But, no.

I may just chuck the whole thing after the SPA EXPERIENCE today.

Seriously, I had muscles worked out that I didn’t even KNOW could be massaged. Like MY TOES!!! I got my TOES massaged!!! Also, the backs of my legs. That felt good too.

I was lucky enough to get an LUXURIOUS SPA massage because my boyfriend got it for me for my birthday. (I guess I’m lucky twice. Awwww shucks.)

I got it as a birthday present back in April, and today was the perfect day to redeem it.

See, it’s my last week in South Carolina, and I just had an AWESOME going away party this past weekend. (Blog to come later this week, WITH PHOTOS).

Preparing for a party of that significance stressed me out considerably, and I had booked this massage specifically for today.

The masseuse, Nikki, had surprisingly strong hands considering she was so tiny.(Umm… “that’s what she said?”)

Ok, mom, let’s try this again…I had requested a person who specialized in deep pressure, and Nikki was the girl who was doing me. (HOLLER!!)

I told Nikki that I was anxious about moving to New Orleans THIS FRIDAY (OMG, woah) and therefore, I was SUPER STRESSED OUT and PLEASE , PLEASE HELP MY TRAPEZIUS! JESUS!

Nikki gave me a white, waffle-weave robe and slippers, and gave me full reign over the lemongrass-scented products in the locker room. (Oh, the life of the filthy rich!)

Once all pampered, I shuffled into an oh-so-tranquil room, and even though it was, 1,000 degrees outside and I was sweating walking from my car to the spa, the layers of sheets and blankets felt heavenly to crawl into. I buried my face into the circular head rest.

Now, I’ve never gotten a full HOUR-LONG massage before, but I have gotten pansy 30-minute massages, and this was leaps and bounds better.

Let me tell you things that were massaged that I’ve never gotten massaged before: the aforementioned toes, cheeks and EARS.

EARS! Nikkie rubbed the edges and she sort of pinched my earlobes and pulled down on them. (They needed it, too. I talk on my cell phone a lot.)

I told my boyfriend later about the massage and HOLY THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU and I may have used the word AMAZEBALLS, and he said the one time he got a massage he felt all loopy afterwards, since it makes you so relaxed.

And that is JUST how I felt afterwards, too.

Half-drunk, super zoned out, all loosened up and warm. And my hair was a mess because that’s what you must put up with when you get a lengthy, mesmerizing head and scalp massage. Man, life is so hard.

Now that I really think about it, the greater benefit of the massage - other than working out all the muscles and making my whole body smell like lemongrass lotion - is that it gave me a nice little oasis to think about when I get stressed out…again….tomorrow.

For the entire hour, there was nothing to worry about, no phone to answer, no one to talk to. (Nikki didn’t talk to me during the massage, knowing that I needed to relax with my own thoughts). And I will go to that place again when I pack all my clothes, and my life, into my car this week.

I will go to that place when I start my first day at my job and inevitably get that uncomfortable first day, OH MY GOD, DID I JUST LOOK/SOUND LIKE AN IDIOT moment; I will go there when I get hungover…again…tomorrow. Ha. Just kidding.

Maybe I should buy the lemongrass lotion to hold me over. Maybe I should get a waffle-woven robe. Maybe I should put Nikki on speed dial.

Just in case I win the lottery and become filthy rich.

-Jenny