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Enjoying a nice spa weekend at home

Heidi Rice
Post Independent
Glenwood Springs, CO Colorado
Fried Rice
ALL |

“Hey, wanna play ‘spa’?” I suggested to Husband-Head with excitement. “I think it’ll be fun, and I know you’ll like it!”

Husband-Head looked a little confused.

“SKA? Why would we play ska? You hate ska music!” he insisted.



“Not ska … SPA,” I corrected him. “We’ll pretend we’re at a spa and pamper ourselves.”

Now Husband-Head looked more afraid than confused.



“How do you play ‘spa’?” he asked suspiciously. “Why can’t we just play ‘doctor’ like I did with the neighborhood girls when I was a kid?”

Pervert.

“Is this going to be like ‘Husband-Head Night’ that you used to do?” he asked, getting excited.

When we were first married I would dedicate a night of doting on him with dinner in bed, body rubs and the whole nine yards.

Of course, that was about 16 years ago.

But I was all jazzed this time because I’d just ordered a jar of salt glow rub and herbal body mud, which promised to make the skin feel soft and smooth and I wanted to share it with Husband-Head.

I took out a large piece of plastic and laid it down on the floor and then opened a jar of body oil.

Husband-Head just raised an eyebrow at my preparations.

“I heard about parties like this in the ’70s,” he said with trepidation. “But I never thought I’d do something like this with my wife. …”

“Stop it. It’s not what you think,” I scolded. “You’re supposed to lie on this sheet, and I’ll mix the oil and the salt glow rub together and rub it all over you.”

Husband-Head still didn’t look so sure, but he’s never been one to turn down the offer of “rubs,” so he reluctantly agreed.

“OK, I guess,” he shrugged. “But I still think we should play doctor instead. …”

He flopped face down on the plastic sheet and waited.

I put on some soft, relaxing New Age music, grabbed a big handful of the salt and oil mixture and began rubbing it on his back.

“OWWWWW!” he screamed in pain. “Why are you rubbing pea gravel on me? Knock it off – that hurts!”

This was clearly not the reaction I was looking for in my spa treatment experiment.

“It’s not pea gravel,” I assured him. “The salt crystals are exfoliating your skin.”

“I’ll exfoliate you off the end of my foot if you don’t stop,” Husband-Head warned. “Can’t we just do the oil and rub thing … or play doctor?”

OK, so the salt rub wasn’t a big hit.

“So what do I do with this whole bucket of salt now?” I demanded to know. “I paid good money for this, you know.”

“Freeze it and then put it outside for the deer to lick on,” Husband-Head suggested. “They like that stuff.”

Not with lavender, rosemary and coconut oil, they don’t. …

Next was the herbal body mud. To the untrained eye, the stuff looked like chocolate-flavored cocaine. But those in the know were aware that it contained “Kaolin clay and Ayurvedic herbs.”

Whatever the hell that means.

Because Husband-Head already fights me when I even try to put sunscreen on his nose, I decided that perhaps trying to put a mud mask on him would be pushing it a bit.

So while he went out yard-saling on a recent Saturday morning, I decided to do the mud treatment on myself.

“This herbal body mud is a rich mixture of herbs and minerals that will leave your skin cleansed and revitalized,” the directions said.

The necessary equipment included a bowl of hot water, a sheet and relaxing music.

“Sounds like natural child birth,” I muttered to myself as I got everything ready.

I pulled my hair back and slathered the mud all over my body, including my face. After a few minutes, the mud started to dry and get hard.

And of course, Husband-Head had to come home early.

“AAAHHH!” he cried out with surprise when he saw me with dried mud all over and just my eyes poking out. “You look like a dried up mummy. In fact, you look like one of my Halloween decorations!”

Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.

By the end of the weekend, I gave up on the spa treatments and we just played “doctor” instead. …

Heidi Rice’s column appears every Thursday in the Citizen Telegram and every Friday in the Post Independent. If you have a funny story or column idea, contact Heidi at hrice@rof.net. To see more columns or buy her book collection, visit http://www.heidirice.com.


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