Disposable Undies Always Make for a Good Day

As the relaxing music played softly in the background while I laid there in my thermal blanket cocoon with hot, aromatherapy oil soaked towels wrapped around me, I realized that there were few places I would rather be at that moment than in disposable undies. And it has nothing to do with incontinence. But instead it has everything to do with one of the little indulgences I so rarely indulge in: the spa.

Slipping out of my clothes and into a pristine white bathrobe, flip-flops, and the unmistakable spa-ness of disposable underwear, I tried to remind myself why I've only done this once before in my life. And then somewhere about 10 minutes into my shiatsu massage, I vowed to never ever leave the place.

Way back in 2005 while I was going through a rough patch in life, I threw caution, or maybe just good fiscal sense, to the wind and spent a way whole lotta money to treat myself to an entire eight hour day at a spa on Hilton Head Island. Since that expensive, but oh so fabulous, weekend I've had a massage or two and a couple of facials, but I've never let myself go in for multiple treatments or anything resembling a "spa day."

So when my friend, Corinne, suggested we treat ourselves to an afternoon at the spa, I decided to jump at the opportunity. I've been working hard; why not go blow a few Reais at the spa!?! (That is a rhetorical question, Sweetie. There is no need for you to answer it.) And boy am I glad I did! Besides a little girl talk, I got four and a half hours of pampering: namely, a shiatsu massage, aromatherapy body wrap, complete facial, and a spa manicure/pedicure. The really incredible part is that I did all that for about the same as it costs you just to walk into a spa in the US. And the service was fabulous!

I have a feeling that this is going to get added to the list of bad habits I am going to have to break when we return to the US. Is there a 12-step program for returning expats? Looking towards the future a bit, I am pretty certain that I'm going to need one.

And as a side note here, am I the only one who loves the concept of the disposable undies? Something about them just really gives a sense of freedom and comfort: Go ahead, slather me up with mud or chocolate or whatever fabulous body treatment you have to offer and wrap me in a cocoon! Or is it just me and my disdain for laundry?