Wearing just a robe and my orange crocs, I quietly pushed open a heavy door with a sign that reads: Please refrain from talking.
The seriousness of the room. The importance of the silence. The reality that I was now living this moment caught me off guard.
My entire body convulsed.
Shaking and trembling as I held my breath, I desperately tried to keep it still. I buried myself toward the wall and then turned my face toward Brenda, pleading with my eyes to do something. To save me from this involuntary physical and emotional spasm I was experiencing.
She looked at me, horrified.
Saying nothing, her face screamed "Nooo, not now, Shaawwwn. Not now. Please don't do this."
I quickly turned around, facing away from her and the others in the relaxation room, hoping to melt into the wall.
"Please God. Please God. Please God." I whispered over and over and over again. "Don't let me---"
And then, in one sudden onslaught of emotions, my body erupted like Mount Vesuvius.
I let out an obnoxious loud, blusterous snorkle. I was surprised how much it sounded like I was crying! But. I was indeed, induced by the laughing bug. Hysterical laughing. Laughing so hard, tears spilled down my face.
And, then, (I like to call it a miracle)... I was able to quickly turn it off.
"Sorry!" I chirped into the room.
I leaned down into a relaxation chair but I sat down too quickly and realized my white robe had folded itself between my legs and was digging into me and was slowly stopping the circulation in my butt. I sat there for a few moments, pretending not to notice.
Then, slowly, and very quietly, I lifted myself back up to re-adjust the robe and in a pretend, fake move, I reached over to the cucumbers to place over my eye lids.
"relax. relax. relax" I keep saying to myself. Over and over and over again.
If you say it enough times, you will find the word relax morphs into other other words such as flaps and sacks.
And now as I am imagining the sacks under my eye lids ... I feel the cucumber sliding down off my eyes and I wonder if anyone is watching me.
I quickly lift my head and glance around the room at the others relaxing. The others don't notice me as they are so poised in their perfect hair styles piled up in such a sophisticated manner. I would have had to hire a hair stylist to even look half as sophisticated. My shadow that is reflected against the wall from the soft lights looks as though my hair is shellac'd against my neck.
Then I hear my name being called out.
I jump up quickly so I don't keep her waiting.
She introduces herself:
My name is Oddie.
"Oddie?" I repeat.
And as we wandered down the hall to the unknown, she asks me when I last foliated my face and when I tell her twice a year whether I need it or not and the last time I used a mask was last week but can you believe I still have the same ointment from 1997 ? she giggles and says, "you're kidding right?"
And I'm not. But because I was pretending to be sophisticated, I said, "Well, yes!" And we both laugh. And she believes me in my sophistication.
Until. She spends half the facial appointment removing blackheads around my nose. And when I lean my arm out so she can place it in a heated glove, I can see one of the cucumbers from my eyelids sticking near my left arm pit.
It was an incredible, once-in-a-lifetime experience staying at the Watermark Hotel. An early birthday present from my best friend.
It was not just a facial. And a full body massage. But a full 3-day spa experience. Staying in their own Spa suite apartment. We were pampered with impeccable service.
Treated like royalty. Which isn't too far from how Brenda treats me anyway. They say everything is big in Texas.
And with my best friend, her heart and generosity toward me certainly is.
I will never forget it.
Thank you Brenda, from the bottom of my heart for a memory of a lifetime.
I will never forget this. Ever.