Gregory Freeman: An Agreeable Introduction To Physical Pleasures Of The Spa Proves To Be Mind-Expanding. P-D 12/10/2010

Headline: AN AGREEABLE INTRODUCTION TO PHYSICAL PLEASURES OF THE SPA PROVES TO BE MIND-EXPANDING
Reporter: By Gregory Freeman

Publication: ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
Last Printed: Sun., Dec. 10, 2000
Section: METRO, Page: D3, Edition: FIVE STAR LIFT

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm not really a spa kind of guy.
There are men who are spa kinds of guys. You know who they are. You see them on the cover of magazines like GQ and Esquire. Blindingly white smiles. Impeccable dressers. Muscles from here to there and back again. Faces that look like they were chiseled on their bodies. That's not me. The only thing on me that goes from here to there and back again is my stomach. The only magazine that might consider me for the cover is Field and Stream.

So no one was more surprised than I when several colleagues got together while I was recovering from hernia surgery a few months back and bought me a trip to a spa.
It takes a while to get into these things, so a week ago my wife and I headed off to the spa for a half-day of pampering.

My first stop was for a massage. I wasn't exactly sure what to expect and was relieved when my wife got a female masseuse and I got a guy. The idea of stripping down to my skivvies in front of an unknown woman had made me a bit nervous. It was a little more comfortable having a guy work on my muscles.
I've got to admit, it felt good. The massage was relaxing. I loosened up and practically fell asleep before he told me that the massage was over.
So far so good, I thought. I could get used to this.

The next step was a facial. "Have you ever had a facial before?" the facial lady asked. Never in life, I assured her. In fact, when I had learned that a facial came with the package, I thought that it would just mean a hot towel on my face.
     I was so wrong.
     I sat back and closed my eyes. She aimed some sort of steam gun at my face. That felt good. Then she moved a bright light over my face and suddenly I felt mild pain, like something was pinching parts of my face.
     "Your pores are clogged, " she told me. She put some sort of cream on my face and pulled out some kind of electric brush and started scrubbing my face.
     "What kind of facial cleanser do you use?" she asked.
     I thought for a moment. "I dunno, just soap, " I said.
     She recommended a bottle of special facial cleanser that cost $30.
     More light on my face, and more pinching. "Your pores are clogged very deeply, " she said.
     Oh great, I thought. This year I've had hernia surgery, been diagnosed with muscular dystrophy, and now clogged pores. Where did I go wrong?
     When she was finished, my face felt better. I suppose my pores were breathing. She put a moist, hot towel on my face, and I was in relaxation heaven.

After facial work, it was time for a pedicure. I put my feet in a warm whirlpool bath, and a young woman started clipping and buffing my toenails. She handed me a cool glass of water with lemon and a men's magazine while she worked on my feet.
My feet would never win a foot beauty contest, but that didn't stop her from working away, doing the best she could with the material she was given. She spared me the red toenail polish that my wife got.

Finally, it was time for a manicure. I'd never had a manicure before, so this was new to me too. The woman asked me to let my hands soak in a bowl of warm water. (At some point, an old TV commercial came to mind and I expected her to say, "It's dishwashing liquid! You're soaking in it!")
After soaking, she buffed my nails and put some sort of clear polish on them - but not too much. When she was done, my nails sparkled. That's pretty cool, I thought.

That was it for our spa experience. We felt refreshed but a bit tired as well. We thanked our hosts.
As we prepared to leave, I plunked down $30 for that bottle of facial cleanser.
Hey, if you're going to be beautiful, there's no reason to backslide.

Daniel Schesch - Webweaver

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