Why it’s important to be a discerning paper pants wearer
For the first time ever I had a terrible massage this weekend. I’m not going to tell you where I was because I don’t want to be mean but I should point out that the massage in question did not take place at an SLH hotel. The first problem arose before I had slipped into the delightful disposable underwear I so enjoy wearing. I was given a man masseuse. I have nothing against men; in fact they are easily my second favourite sex. But I’m not enamoured with the idea of having one rub his hands all over my body unless invited to do so following a lengthy courting process.
I didn’t say anything though, I never do in spas. For a reason I’ve never really considered until now an overwhelming ‘when in Rome’ attitude that takes over my brain whenever I set foot in a spa that essentially means I’ll let them do anything (legal) no matter how ridiculous it sounds.
Boiling hot stones, disco baths, a chocolate coating, being wrapped in Clingfilm… If someone dressed in one of those special pyjama/doctors/kimono outfits staff wear in spas told me to stand on one leg and bark like a dog while they hit me with sticks I’d probably do it as long as they promised I would feel relaxed afterwards.
But on this occasion I left feeling about as relaxed as a poorly-prepared student in an exam hall. I accepted the idea that it was a man pretty quickly but couldn’t get used to this particular man’s agitated massage style. It was as if he was trying to shoehorn a 7 hour treatment into 30 frenzied minutes of hell.
Nobody should ever move quickly in a spa. Surely that must be a rule? But he dashed around me like an angry sprinter, prodding me occasionally, and then flung some boiling hot oil over me before ringing a loud bell and disappearing.
I don’t know if he had finished torturing me but I wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to run away so grabbed my clothes and snuck out like a traumatised ninja.
It hasn’t put me off for life though. Scores of wonderful massages versus one bad one seems fair odds. I’m just going to be a little more discerning about where and when I don the paper pants from now on. Thankfully there’s plenty of luxury spa resorts from SLH to choose…