So last week I told you I was forgoing making radical changes to my lifestyle such as joining the gym until after I had been to a rather lovely wellness hotel.
Joining the gym in January is like going food shopping on an empty stomach. A terrible and expensive idea. But what I didn’t tell you was that while I am ignoring my insides for a month or so I am going to be paying full attention to my outsides.
January is officially a month of indulgence and for me there is nothing more indulgent than having a massage. A firm set of hands and some serious sports massage action and I am in the place people who behave well in heaven get to go to next.
So great is my love that I thought it didn’t matter where said massages took place. A bus shelter, a railway station, on a roundabout… I thought the point was the hands. But it turns out I was wrong.
My January dedication to massage created a rather embarrassing few minutes this weekend. I wanted one desperately but had been given a 9 hour delivery slot for a new dishwasher. Fascinating stuff I know.
Anyway, what I thought was a eureka moment came when I discovered that in an ‘emergency’ there are companies who will send a professional masseuse with a massage table to your home.
I promptly ordered, my masseuse promptly arrived, I promptly removed most of my clothes and as luck would have it the company delivering the dishwasher decided to suddenly be prompt themselves.
The delivery guys, bless them, did their best not to look surprised by me in a dressing gown or the woman with oil covered hands loitering by the massage table. But they didn’t waste any time getting out of there and I could hear them laughing as they walked down the stairs!
Somehow having two men in overalls carrying a dishwasher through my ‘treatment room’ rather trod all over the relaxation levels for me.
Even when the delivery guys had departed I wasn’t able to fully relax during the massage because the mood bubble had been burst.
There’s a reason why most spas are in hotels and it’s because they don’t have large white goods being carted through their treatment rooms by sweaty middle aged men. They also have towels and dressing gowns by the bucket load that you don’t have to clean yourself several times because they’re covered in oil. And you also don’t feel honour bound to help the masseuse carry their massage table down the stairs and to her car.
This weekend I’ll be having another massage to continue my indulgent January. But it’ll be in a building with a big S L and H stamped on the outside! (Have a look at all the options here)
Right I’m off to book that. And learn about what I’m going to talk about in my next post… Apps.
See you next week! x