Tip of the Day

It was busy at the spa today but I'm not complaining. Really, with the economy the way it is I'm the last person you're gonna hear complain about having work, or being busy.

I did a Pregnancy Massage, a Swedish Massage, a Hot Shell Massage and .... drum roll please, a 2 hour Hot Stone Massage...pa, rum, pum. I admit I'm a little tired, not much but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't.

In all, it was only four Massages, which is no big deal; a normal day. The one that tired me out was the last, a 2 hour Hot Stone. Not sure if you picked up on the TWO HOUR HOT STONE of that sentence. I've done two hour massages before and while they're not very common, we do get a request every now and then.

Here's the deal, if you've never had a hot stone massage, you must understand that the stone is hot because it is immersed in hot water. Well, let me just tell the deep dark secrets of a day spa...the stones are in a crock pot for goodness sake. It's not some fancy schmancy machine that heats the stones. We're talking Mama's roaster set at 125-135 or thereabouts. No tomato sauce please! Hold the carrots and potatoes, just gimme some plain old Basalt, black volcanic rock and a big plastic spoon to dish the stones out with.

This massage is all about comfort...to the receiver of course, because to tell you the truth, there is nothing and I repeat, nothing comfortable about holding on to a hot stone especially when your experiencing hot flashes. So, here I am in this dark room. A forty watt light in the corner, just enough to give the room the feeling of mystique. A little water fountain for the steady sound of water falling, light music to relax the client and me....a frizzy haired, crazed woman with high blood pressure, trying to survive menopause without taking anyone down, ending up in a mental institution or heaven forbid, a prison cell. Ahhhh, yes, peace. My foot!

When I walked into that room to perform the service, my hair was down (almost straight), make-up beautifully done, sane of mind. Peace abounds, life is beautiful. I have to admit, even I would have liked me. But how you gonna stick me in a little room with a bunch of rocks creating enough humidity to make me think I'm on the island of Guam and ask me to treat some nice, very nice, unsuspecting client for two long hours? How? I don't understand people. Apparently I have everyone at that spa thinking I'm a level headed, kind person.

Thank God my client fell into a restful sleep because by the time I ended her treatment I was ready to scream. I kindly woke her, slid out of the room before she could take a good look at me. I ran to the employee room, took out my fan, gulped down a glass of cold water and did everything I possibly could to cool myself down and "appear" normal again. Not an easy feat when your hands are lobster red from those stinking stones. And who thought of this treatment anyway?

Well, it's over. I did my best, hot flashes and all. My hands are like leather now but apparently I did something right because my client left me a really nice tip. Bless her heart and ability to sleep while some mad woman massages her with hot stones.