The idea of having a ‘spa day’ used to fill me with dread. The thought of anyone touching me inappropriately with lavender oil and rubbing organic aloe vera and jojoba cream into my fat face did not appeal to me in the slightest. I also have an irrational ‘thing’ about water because I’m allergic to salt water and also because I’m a muppet. And don’t forget the ‘girlie’ aspect of indulging in spas that turned me off. Giggly girls do my head in at the best of times, so chatting about boys and menstrual cycles whilst embracing my femininity sounded horrific. However for my birthday last year I decided to just get involved and quit bitching. It was the year of ‘yes!’ So my buddy who is a seasoned pro at spa-ing/being lazy as hell and the epitome of all things ‘girlie’ dragged me along for a cheeky massage and chill time. It was awesome and I have no idea why I avoided such an activity where you get to do fuck all except drool ever so slightly when you fall asleep on the loungers by the pool. It was however from this experience that I realised there are unsaid rules and regulations for being in a certain calm and tranquil environment… and I broke most of them. Shocker.
Your ‘indoor’ voice.
So apparently there is this ‘thing’ called an ‘indoor voice’ which I have not perfected yet. When I’m often in conversations with friends I am usually always stopped mid-sentence and told to ‘use my indoor voice.’ Like bitch just messed up my flow! Depending on my jovial mood I may just scream louder to make a point and insert words like penis and cunnilingus for effect. But I digress… In a spa there will be no such carry on. Everyone bloody whispers! My spa buddy is mortified by me on the regular and whilst I’m apparently screaming, she is using her soft posh salon voice to reprimand me for my insolence.
Yes even at a luxurious spa where you’re wrapped in a robe and shitty white flip flop things, do you have to consider what you are wearing. Bikinis and sexy swimwear are all the rage. Boardies apparently are not… #lesbian.
No diving, no bombing and no heavy petting. Bore off! When indulging in a swim in a posh spa pool, one must conduct themselves with grace and class and not re-enact the music video to Peter Andre’s ‘Mysterious Girl’ under the fake waterfall.
Talking to strangers
Now I’m not gonna lie… I was taught the ‘Stranger Danger’ mantra as a child and I don’t see why we still can’t enforce this as adults! However if you’re sharing a hot tub with randoms then this is apparently the perfect opportunity to exchange awkward smiles so they know you come in peace, share stories of the weather and giggle nervously when someone presses a button and a jet stream of bubbles hits you in interesting areas!
Being massively two-faced about treatments
Having a treatment like a facial/massage by someone who has hands like Shrek or who give you a 45 minute massage in 20 mins because they can’t be arsed is TOTALLY fine. When they ask you how it was you of course lie! Holding back the tears of disappointment and having a mild asthma attack over the incense sticks that smell like feet… you even give them a fucking tip. Then casually after this false display of gratitude... you head down to reception mumbling “what a shit hole!”, ask for the manager and demand your money back or at least a voucher redeemable when you inevitably come back.