… as well as the crack of my ass.
I’m not even joking. This happened to me. This happened. To. Me.
I just returned from Olympic Spa, a lovely Korean Day Spa for the ladies.
I ordered myself up a body scrub and this is how it went down:
First, you go into the bath area where there are a slew of showers. You must shower immediately, not unlike if you had ordered up a lady for the evening. Then you take a dip in one of the three hot tubs. One is hot, one is insanely hot and one is insanely cold.
Nudie ladies are everywhere.
Checking out other ladies really boosts my body image. I can go on about my thighs and my wee Buddha belly but when I go to the spa, I’m fine. Everyone has thighs. Everyone has Buddha bellies. Everyone has cellulite, scars and hair in the wrong places.
It’s really quite pretty. And sexy. And sensual.
I’m not even kidding.
It’s nice to see women that look like women and not 12-year-old boys like they do in magazines. In fact, there was ONE woman who had a magazine’s version of a perfect body. ONE.
Why do we measure our self worth against ONE kind of body? It’s preposterous. It’s ludicrous. It’s also just plain inaccurate. The math is off. Way off.
But, back to the old Korean lady.
So we are given a bracelet with our locker key. It has a number on it. I was #20. While we are soaking in one of the hot tubs, a lady dressed in a black bra and undies comes around and screams, “Numba 20!” I raise my hand and follow her to a table in a long line of other tables.
On the other tables are other nudie ladies getting their scrubs.
“Lay down on yo belly. Head he-ya.”
I lay down with my head where she points. Then she takes what can only be described as a Brillo pad and proceeds to scrub the bageezus out of my skin. She starts at my feet, goes up my thigh, zips up to my butt (all of it), onto my back and even scrubs the back of my ears. Then she heads down the other side.
I turn over. She starts at the tops of my feet and heads up one side and down the other. When she got to my super sensitive boobies, I wasn’t sure what was going to go down. But, she scrubbed at them just like she scrubbed everything else… with a brute force I haven’t felt since my mother scrubbed me down after playing in the muddy field by my house when I was six.
She didn’t scrub one area. But she scrubbed right up to it. Zoiks.
Then she took a big pail of water and threw it over me. The water splashed to the ground, taking my top layer of epidermis with it.
As I spit and sputter, she handed me an envelope that I can use to give her a tip later when I’m not dripping wet and naked. Then she heads off to call out “Numba 21!”
But now that I’m home, my skin feels so soft that I want to go out to the sidewalk and tell people to touch me. Go on, I’d say. Just touch my skin. Do it. It’s so soft.
It might even be worth another trip to the spa… but not until I grow another layer of skin for her to scrub off.