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To Spa or not to Spa by J. G. Fabiano
The year I turned 50, I promised myself that I would try as many new things as possible without, of course, hurting myself. Well, the year my Debbie turned 50 she did the same. So here I am somewhere in Quebec waiting for my first day of a total Spa experience. The weeks before we left I was a hero. My wife bragged to all her friends and family that I was traveling with her to Quebec, where we were going to experience the excitement of a Spa. I enjoyed this time of praise. Ridicule and humor replaced this praise when it came to my friends and colleagues. They just couldn't believe that I would take the time and chance to go to a spa. I was jokingly told that I was going to be "touched" by a guy named Igmar, who had hairy knuckles. I became the brunt of jokes throughout my social sect. Reality came too soon and I had to come through with what I had promised. The drive up started innocently enough. I checked and re-checked everything I was supposed to bring. In fact, for a few hours before the trip I was proud of myself because I thought I hadn't forgot anything. Sitting in a restaurant, about an hour from home, I came to the realization that I did not know the name of the place where we were going. Hell, I couldn't even pronounce it! After about 20 minutes of cold, you-are-totally-losing-it looks from my wife, we backtracked to my school where I looked up the name of the place. The Spa was called "Auberge Godefroy" in a city whose name had a "St." in front of it. Most of the cities in Quebec have a St. in front of them. Well, the day finally came and I was about to experience my first day of being Spa'd. After breakfast my wife and I decided to explore a bit, and find out where the spa was. When we found it, I was a bit taken aback because all I could say to myself was, "but of course". The spa was down a very steep and narrow stairway leading to a very dark and small door. As I was walking down the staircase, all I could think of was every horror flick that I had seen, since I was six. Flashing through my mind was whether or not they had shackles on the wall, and assorted torture machines down there, or is this where they had hidden bio-technical experiments that went wrong? A little later on that morning, my wife led me through the doorway where I stood one foot in, and one foot out, just in case I was allowed a quick exit. There were eight women there and I believe they were as terrified as I was when we met. Am I the first man to ever enter through this door? Maybe I will luck-out and they won't let me in. My wife did all the talking and I soon discovered that not only were there no men but no one spoke English. Are we the only English-speaking people to ever visit this spa? I wonder if the expressions, "Ow!" or "Don't do that!" are universal? I soon found out that my wife and I were in the presence of some of the friendliest and good-natured people I have ever known. They were also extremely professional and obviously loved their profession. The reception area was immaculately clean and everyone who worked there knew exactly what they were expected to do. We were asked to dress down into our bathing suits and they supplied us with robes and slippers. I was actually beginning to feel relaxed; almost comfortable. We were then led into a room they called the relaxation room. It was filled with lounge chairs and had new-age music playing, with water and teas offered. I relaxed with my wife until one of the attendants told me that I should follow her. At first, I started to panic and I glanced down at my wife. I saw that her face was filled with compassion, for she knew I was in a total panic. I then thought to myself that anything that started off so well can't end up bad. It didn't because it got better! I was brought into a room and told by a wonderful young lady, whose name was Sophie, that I would first be ex-foliated. I never thought I was foliated! Because she did not understand English she did not get my joke but she was still able to tell me what to do. I lay down on the bed and she gave me my first and most remarkable massage that I have ever received. I was instantly relaxed and my only regret was that it had to end. The rest of the day progressed even better: I went through procedures that relaxed my legs, my arms, and actually my entire body. In fact, my body started to feel like I think I remember it felt when I was decades younger. I was put in mud Jacuzzis and steam rooms. Every time I was led into another procedure I was told to relax. Halfway through the day I told everyone that it was unnecessary to tell me, as the older the day became the more relaxed I became. To be honest, I don't remember the last time I was so relaxed. At the end of my first day, my body never felt so good at least as far back as I can remember but, my mind was also taught a valuable lesson. I was shown that I should not make decisions in my life, as to what I should do, by a society of friends and family that allows very few new experiences. Before I left for Quebec, all of my friends and most of my family made fun of what we were going to do; not that they knew what it was, or had ever experienced it. They were told by their social values that men are not supposed to experience a spa, because men are not supposed to do such things and still be considered 'men'. My second day at the spa began like the first, but this time I noticed that there were many men enjoying their time at the spa. At this point I didn't care who was there because all I was concerned about was looking forward to another remarkable day. This time I was treated to a massage using water that took away every pain I had assumed I was destined to feel, for the rest of my life. An algae wrap and bath that literally made it more enjoyable to take a deep breath and a foot massage that made my feet feel they were many decades younger. At the end of my second day, I was saddened because the experience was coming to an end but I was also excited in the knowledge that I would soon be coming back. After having experienced the spa, the idea that spas are not for men became a concept that could not sound more foolish. This experience made me understand that it doesn't take thousands of dollars worth of prescription medicine to feel good. It doesn't take pouring massive amounts of alcohol, or other drugs, into your body to enable you to get away from the stresses of our modern society. It only takes the knowledge that all your body needs is a little relaxation and pampering. For once your body relaxes, your mind quickly follows. Maybe the drug companies know this and have spread the word throughout our society that entities like spas are foreign and should remain so. This would make sense because if people realized what spa treatments can do. They would no longer need to spend massive amounts of money, for the rest of their lives, to throw pills down their throats, then soon replace them with more pills, to get the same results. It is no mystery that the pharmaceutical companies in our nation are taking much of our present money, and promise to take all of the monies from those of us who are destined to grow old. This experience also taught me something else: having new experiences in life makes one's mind stay young, and excited about being alive. I always told my wife that I didn't want to end my life with the concept that I, "coulda, whoulda, shoulda". Not that all things you try will be successful, or do what they are supposed to do. However it is clearer to me now that the only way one loses a quest for life is to not go after it. So, here I sit with my 51st birthday right around the corner. I just wish I hadn't waited this many years to experience everything that life has a tendency to throw out at you, because of what I am told I am supposed, and not supposed, to experience. The End
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