Who's That Girly Girl (Part 3)

After writing yesterday's Girly Girl blog post, I remembered that I had $100 in SpaFinder gift certificates from a caller. Apparently, at his job, when you do awesome above-and-beyond things, they reward you with these points that you can cash in for gift certificates -- he used his to get me SpaFinder for a post-move stress-release massage. Please, by all means, continue to be awesome at work on my behalf!

Turns out, the place nearest to me that accepts those gift cards also has an exfoliating massage followed by a "Vichy Shower" which looks like this:

That's SEVEN shower heads. I was lying on a rubber mat (which totally made me want to go down a water slide) on a steel bed in a completely tiled room with drains in the floor. The massage therapist scrubbed my body with sea salt and marine botanicals, then rinsed me off with the awesome multi-headed shower thing, then slathered me with a moisture-sealing oil. Then I flipped over and repeated on my front side.

Before I flipped over, I informed her that I didn't care if she saw me naked, because I was a theater major, and I got used to changing in front of a lot of people (my standard line for such situations). She innocently asked, "Do you still do anything with theater?", and I realized that my standard line invites that question... I'll have to rethink that.

So I answered, "Uhhhhhmmmm, kinda, but if you're not in the mood to be shocked, I'll just keep the answer to myself." She practically squealed, "Now you HAVE to tell me!" and so I did, indeed, inform her that I'm a phone sex operator. Her enthusiastic response of, "OH MY GOD that's AWESOME... now I have a thousand questions!" totally made the experience even more fun.

Yes, I told her about you. You, specifically. I'm sure I did. :)


Afterwards, when I was all glowy and happy, with the softest, healthiest skin of my life, I took this picture in the spa robe specifically posed so I could post it on the blog:

I know, the picture quality on my phone is crap, but I'm sure I do a horrible job of holding still when my arms are all post-massage-noodley, and the picture looks fine on the little screen...

You're missing the point, anyway. The important thing here is how happy and relaxed I look! Gawlee!  /hrmph /grin

Afterwards, I desperately needed sexy hands rubbed over all my newly soft skin, so I asked my husband to oblige me, which he kindly did (yay me!). We had a fantastic afternoon romp, and then we went to dinner, which I decided merited a little dressing up (hippie style, of course - it takes more than just being massaged to get me into a cocktail dress), even though we went to a local Tex-Mex dive place where nobody cares what I look like:

The purple ball on the floor squeaks when bitten by rescue mutts. Loudly. So loudly that it is off limits when I'm on the phone. And although it would be lovely if the bed were mussed because of the afternoon hubby-tussling, really, the bed was the site of an epic face-biting puppy war over Who Gets The Purple Ball while I was getting dressed.

Dinner was fantastic, and I'm in an absolutely delicious mood for the evening. Yum.

And that, my friends, is the story of a lovely, girly afternoon of pampering, also known as: "Why I Have Moved SpaFinder Gift Certificates To The Top of My Wish List"

Who's That Girly Girl? (Part 2)

As I mentioned in Who's That Girly Girl?, I was more of a tomboy growing up than a femme girl. Although I always enjoyed dressing up for special occasions, I didn't keep my nails painted, and I valued luxurious food with good friends over luxurious pampering (my first manicure ever was the day before my first wedding - I was 25).

But since I was 30, I've had a tradition with two college friends to go off for a girls' weekend of pampering and relaxation. Every year, someone needs something specific (a brass candle snuffer, a tall thin vase to balance the mantle, the perfect chunky necklace for someone's birthday...), and we all hunt together amidst funky shops to find it.

This year, I wanted glass bead earrings that looked like they were made of wood, to match a fun necklace that I never wear because I don't have good earrings for it. I found them, and then added bracelets, and then a second complimentary necklace so I could get the free gift (a fancy hairband for the daughter of one of my cohorts).

Then when I came home, I finally admitted to myself that I need to bite the bullet and buy my own nail polishes, along with clear top coats, so I can touch up my own manicures and pedicures without having to pay to have them redone.

And while I was finding the nail items, I remembered that I didn't have a good light pink lipstick, and I'd meaning to try lip plumper, since several of the PSOs I follow rave about it...

Which led to this cacophony of absolutely girlishness on my desk yesterday: 

That's my desk. Those things are for me. I will use all those things, regularly. That is an accurate representation of a part of me these days.

I wish I could explain to you how weird it is to admit that to myself.

And... how fun.