Friday, 13 June 2014

Facials & Fiascos

I don't know if it's just me (or the fact I've only been twice in my whole life), but spas intimidate me. Both times I've been I feel as though I've stepped into a super-secret club for posh people and ladies of leisure. There's nothing too difficult about putting on a robe and being pampered, but I think I have post-traumatic stress disorder from the very first time I went where I somehow managed to, erm, expose myself to the woman who was giving me a facial (but in my defense, why was it necessary for me to be naked apart from a skimpy pair of plastic underwear for a facial? And no, it was not a sketchy back-alley 'spa'.)

Why is it normal spa behaviour to be almost naked if you're having a facial? Is it meant to be relaxing? Are you a pleb if you want to keep your robe on?

Anyway, I managed to pluck up the courage to go again the other day, and whilst I managed not to flash anyone, I still managed to make myself look like an eejit (you can't take me anywhere) by stealing someone's seat in the relaxation room. When I apologised to her and said I didn't realise, she looked at me like I was the biggest buffoon. In fairness, the towel and the two apples she had left sitting there should've been a dead giveaway..

Anyway, all fiascos aside, it was a very enjoyable facial and hopefully as time goes on I'll be a seasoned spa-goer and a proper, normal functioning member of society - but I wouldn't count on it any time soon.

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