My dear friend the Lipstick Gardener sent me a gift certificate to a day spa. It was an un-birthday present, which we all know is the best kind. I saved it for a couple of months, savoring the pleasure of knowing I could use it any time I wanted. I perused the web site, deciding how to get the most luxury for the money (and deciding what I’d get if money were no object – how I’d love to say that and mean it!).
But time was running out, so I figured I’d better use it before I move to Hooterville next week. I booked a mani/pedi, and set off this morning for my date with primping. It was a perfectly sunny day, and it was hard to believe that just two days ago there was a mini typhoon here. I enjoyed driving on dry pavements more than I ever thought possible.
I thoroughly enjoyed being buffed and polished. I had a heated buckwheat and lavender filled pillow on my shoulders to relax me as I was prettified, and Ella Fitzgerald and Billie Holiday sang to me as I was sugar scrubbed and painted. My toes are now OPI Maliblue, a sort of iridescent blue that changes colors in the sun and has a subtle sparkliness, and my fingers are OPI Sweet Heart, a discreet, yet shiny neutral. I love it when cosmetics have names instead of numbers. It’s much more fun to be Maliblue than, say, number 42. Sometimes I think that Cosmetic Namer would be one of the most fun jobs ever. I bet I’d be good at it, too.
My mental state is as improved as my feet and hands. I wonder if it’s too late to add a proviso to the health care bill to entitle us girls to mani/pedis twice a year or so, and massages all around? We’d all be prettier and more relaxed, so we’d be happier. And isn’t happier always healthier?