Fantasy Land

So today I finally made it to the spa. My dear sweet husband bought me a day at the spa last year around this time and for some insane reason I just cashed it in. Well, I was big and pregnant and didn't want to waste a perfectly good massage on one of those fake "on your side pregnancy" massages. So, one more baby, 11 months of very little sleep and shove out the door later, I was off to my day of beauty.


I'm finally in my warm, comfy robe and slippers and I'm waiting in this serene room for my fairy spamother to come and take me to my massage. I open a book that I began to read while I was pregnant with my son and let out a deep sigh. ahhhh. A young woman walks in and I give her the polite southern nod and smile and then stick my nose back into my book. An older woman is carried off to her facial fantasy and massage and she is quickly replaced by another woman, who has the same look of dreamy bliss on her face. The trickling of the waterfall is in perfect sync with the relaxing music in the background and a smile spreads across my face. I can already feel the knots unraveling in my shoulders. .... car accident?....traumatized?? Dear Lord, what is the girl babbling about? I look around the room and I could see from the look on the other woman's face, that our one day of mother's fairytale bliss was going to be thwarted by the evil spa partner. This young girl had apparently just been in a car accident and was suffering from short term memory loss. Yeah just my luck. So for the next 5 hours I had the pleasure of sharing my lunch, manicure and pedicure with an older version of my two year old. Same stories over and over, can't follow what in the world she was saying, but I just nod my head and smile. I mean, she just came out of a car accident so I couldn't just tell her, "Um yeah, I know you just defeated death and are feeling lost and confused and are seeking out comfort, but PLEASE find someone else to unload on, because this is my ONE day off and I really don't feel like listening to your ramblings." Nope, couldn't say that, so I listen and nod and pray really hard that someone will come and rescue me. After awhile, I forget about my book and just decide to go with it, so we chat.


I'll spare you all the details of a 21 year old's life, and sum it up for you. Wreak, miracle that she's alive, more worried about car, wants another Mustang, wants Ninfa's instead of fancy spa grill food, best quality of boyfriend is money, talked to said boyfriend they whole day, AND doesn't want to breastfeed because of saggy boobs! Ha! I spared her the reality of her boobs changing whether or not she breastfed, I mean it was after all her spa day too.


Picture: Me when I 'young' and I obviously didn't ever think I'd be where I am now, then, OR I would have never posed for this picture!