Tag Archives: Relaxation

The Vacation Allens

Do you become a different person on vacation? Maybe you’re not a different person, per say, maybe just a more restful, relaxed version of yourself. After all, that’s what vacation is for, right? To RELAX, to decompress from real life, to take a break from the rigorous daily routine, to enjoy the fruits of our labor. We work hard for that vacation so we want to enjoy it!

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(Those smug rednecks. Look how relaxed they look.)

When our family goes on vacation, we turn into the Vacation Allens. If you’ve never met these Allens, you’re missing out. They are just the most fun. They are up for anything, will wake up extra early for adventure, and they spare no expense. They are easy-going, go-with-the-flow people. They want to pack it all in because they’ve decided they’ll sleep when they’re dead. They haven’t a care in the world, these Vacation Allens.

The only people who hate the Vacation Allens are the Brentwood Allens. They think the Vacation Allens are self-absorbed punks. They’re selfish, they have ALL the fun, and they use the Brentwood Allens credit card to fund it all.

JERKS.

They eat at nice restaurants, not even looking at the right side of the menu, buy all the souvenirs, buy all the entertainment and a month later, the Brentwood Allens are left to foot the bill like a couple of schmucks. What do they think; the Brentwood Allens have a money tree in their backyard? And not only do they leave them to carry the financial burden of all their vacay fun, they also force them to carry the weight. No really, like the actual pounds gained while they feasted on whatever their little hearts desired on vacation. Those Vacation Allens say yes to ALL THE FOOD. Mainly the carbs because screw the Brentwood Allens who try to eat healthy and work out; we’re on VACATION! Bread? YES! Ice cream? YES! Pizza? YES! Chips, salsa, guacamole? YES! YES! YES! The Vacation Allens have zero self-control and have deluded themselves into believing they have the metabolism of a 10 year old with ADHD. It’s pathetic. The Brentwood Allens are left to curse their soft bellies and sausage arms. Thanks a lot Vacation Allens.

I feel bad for the Brentwood Allens always having to pay for the sins of their alter egos. It isn’t fair. But I must say, since we are going on vacation soon, I’m a little giddy for Vacation Court. She is going to have a blast pounding carbs and pretending they don’t affect her body in the least. It’s a blissful time. The backlash will be brutal but Vacation Court will go hard before she goes home. She’s not a quitter. She will eat the last bite/last roll/last piece of cake and will feel zero shame about it. It’s gonna be amazing.

Anybody else have vacation alter egos?

-Courtney

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Spa Day

I had such a unique spa experience when I went to Mexico a couple of weeks ago I thought I would share it with you. I know it seems cruel since you won’t physically BE at the spa but I feel like you will be rejuvenated in mind, body, and spirit after reading this.

Ok, go to your quiet place and free your mind of all your stress. Moms of toddlers, this just means turn on Sesame Street for your kids, give them a snack, and lock yourself in the bathroom. I know how it works.

When I walk into the spa and give the man my name, he says, “So you’re here for the Radiance Restore Rejuvenation Refresh Relaxation Redeemer Ricola massage?” Those may not have been his exact words but whatever he said had a lot of r’s in the title. Not knowing which massage I paid for I just said yes. I mean, a massage is a massage…or so I thought.

 

I meet my massage therapist, Ilda, and she tells me to disrobe and get under the sheet and lie face down. And like the few other times I’ve had a massage, I get down to my undies and get under the sheet. Ilda comes in and she begins to do a little all over pat down, then she takes one of my legs out from under the sheet and begins lightly rubbing a Brillo pad over it.

Are you shocked I said Brillo pad? Yes, that was my initial reaction too. See, I’ve never had a Brillo pad massage before so you can imagine my surprise when she begins to systematically do this over the entire backside of my body sans booty.

After she had scrubbed me down with the pan brush, she took coarse sand and began sanding down all the parts that had just been scrubbed. I couldn’t tell if this was a massage or if she was preparing to stain me like a wooden coffee table. All I knew was I was thanking my sweet Jesus in heaven that I wasn’t sunburned or I would’ve been in tears at this point.

After the sanding, she rubbed me down with some sort of jelly. I don’t even know. My face is in the doughnut. I’m completely helpless. Then, with the jelly on, she has me flip over onto my back.

Now this is when things start going to a weird place that I can’t unremember.

If you’ve had a massage before, you know that what they do on one part, they do on all the parts. So I was bracing myself as Ilda began to Brillo pad my arms. Now, something that came as a surprise was when sweet, little Ilda raised my arm and took the Brillo pad to my armpit.

I’ll give you a minute.

She is literally scrubbing my armpit. (Oh, I forgot to mention, when I turned over, Ilda placed a towel over my eyes so I couldn’t see what she was doing. Now I know why.) Guys, I couldn’t even. I started laughing. Like giggle laughing because OH MY GOSH IT TICKLED AND I WAS EMBARASSED AND IT WAS TOTALLY AWKWARD!! Then ILDA started laughing and I was done. I kept thinking, “This is what I do to my children before they go to bed! What is even happening?!”

After I quasi recovered (because let’s face it, after the Tickle Monster, there was really no going back to a peaceful state), Ilda did something even more surprising. You need to remember I’m blindfolded so I can’t see what she’s doing. She ever so stealthily places some sort of washcloth to cover my chest and pulls the sheet down below my belly button but above my lady parts.

YOU GUYS, SERIOUSLY, WHAT IS HAPPENING?! First of all, she may as well have put one square of toilet paper over my chest for what the washcloth was covering. When I lie down, so do the girls. To say it was a nip slip would be a gross understatement. (Sorry Dad.)

Then she did something even my husband is forbidden to do.

She rubbed my stomach. With the Brillo pad.

It happened.

I’m so ashamed.

She continued by rubbing sand on my soft belly WITH HER HANDS, then after wiping that off, she slathered jelly all over my tummy tum. Like a biscuit. And that is where I died. Part of me will never be the same after that. I didn’t even know what to do. Ilda had put her hands on my stomach pooch and our relationship would never be the same. At that point, I was just grateful I had a washcloth over my eyes because there would be no eye contact with Ilda after the tummy rub.

After she made my stomach a glazed doughnut, she pulled the sheet up and wrapped me in it, then put some heavier electric blanket on me. The only thing showing was my face. I felt like a caterpillar in a sticky cocoon. I half wondered if I would have wings when I came out. She left me there for several minutes to “relax.” Thanks, Ilda, you know just how I like to relax.

When she returned, she asked me to get up so she could walk me over to the relaxation tub. One would assume she would wrap me in a towel. One would be wrong. Why would she wrap me in a towel when she could just hold one up while I try to awkwardly cover myself with my hands as I walk over to the tub? I don’t even know why I bothered trying to be modest. It really wasn’t necessary after all she’d seen my nips and rubbed my belly. So I get in the warm, soaker tub and Ilda left for probably 10 minutes or so. It actually was quite tranquil until my bladder remembered what warm water makes me do. Guys, I tried to hold it. I really did but I’m getting older, and I’ve had 3 babies, and the water was really, really warm, and there were jets, and water sounds, and I just let a little bitty bit out. After that I just sat in my diluted teetee water, waiting for Ilda to come in so we could finish whatever this was. She came back and had me lay back down on the table and, thankfully, did what seemed like a normal massage. Of course all of the restfulness was moot after everything that had happened. When she had finished, I thanked her, without eye contact, got dressed, packed up what was left of my dignity, and walked out.

Then I ran back to my hotel room to make bullet points of what had just happened so I could write about it later. This is later. Sorry it was a long read but, my gosh, there was so much I couldn’t leave out! I hope you are a little more rested and light-hearted after reading this. Now go on with your day feeling blessed that a grown woman has never massaged your belly as a relaxation technique.

Anyone else had an out of ordinary spa experience?

-Courtney

P.S. I’ve still got copies of Rooster’s Balloon if you want to order one! Go up to the Purchase tab and order one today!

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