Go to the spa, they said, it will be fun, they said

You know you’re an adult in 2023 when you book yourself a spa day.

But you know you’re truly an adult in 2023 when you book the spa on a Monday, so you can do that instead of turning up to work.

That’s what happened to me when I had a ‘must escape reality’ moment.

As a woman in modern society, the reality I was hoping to get away from included: explaining to people why I’m married but don’t have children, the anxiety of walking alone in my village, becoming the murder victim to inspire the next Netflix documentary.

When I arrived at the spa, I was greeted by a peacock which was indeed a lovely break from reality.

Then came the imposter syndrome. Should I spend my hard-earned gender pay gap money on myself? Yes. The answer is always YES.

This was followed by the confidence crisis; being over thirty and daring to squeeze into a swimming costume. DISGUSTING, shouted the Daily Mail. FUCK YOU, I replied as I let my cellulite jiggle by the middle-aged man wearing the world’s shortest shorts and letting everyone at the poolside know about it.

Finally came the anxiety about the massage. My worries of ‘what if I fart or fall asleep?’ were replaced with new worries when I learned that the massage would be done by a big hairy man, twice the size of me.

I’d like to point out that I have nothing against big hairy men twice the size of me. I married one. But did I feel comfortable taking my top off, lying down on a bed and having a strange man close the door and rub oil into my naked back? No.

After all, we live in modern society. The worry of sexual violation is carried by most women, all the time. That was literally why I paid money for the massage in the first place; to get away from such worries.

There were rumours circulating in reception that the spa was short-staffed and they’d brought in temps. So to add to the anxiety, I wasn’t 100% sure this man even worked there.

Like a grown up, I politely went to the desk and asked if I could swap for a female masseur.

Well, that’s what I imagined I would do. 

Instead, I burst into tears, snot flew out of my nose and I mumbled something about feeling uncomfortable.

The staff were understanding and I got a lovely massage in which I didn’t relax at all because I was too embarrassed about the tears and snot.

When the spa morning ended, I got a phone call from my mum. She had the afternoon off. She couldn’t remember what I was doing. She had a guest pass to her local spa. She asked if I wanted to come along.

Well, it has been an anxious morning, I thought. So off I went, to worry about sexual violation and snot in another building.

As it turns out, you can’t get away from reality. It follows you even when you go to the spa. Lovely.

Happy relaxing everyone!