Can I share a secret? I haven’t spent a night away from Ruth. Until this past weekend, that is. It’s hard to wrap my mind around that fact. What exactly have I been doing for 18 months? I mean, I know there’s been a break between Project Runway seasons, that would’ve been the perfect time. As soon as Heidi said, I’m sorry… you’re out, I should’ve taken her seriously and walked straight to the nearest hotel.
But we all have our own timelines and this is how mine finally shook down.
We didn’t go anywhere exotic. It was probably the most hum-drum “vacation” I’ve ever taken. No trekking around with strangers we’d just met to search for The Soul of The World.
No. This was decidedly more low-key.
Ruth knew something was up when I actually put on slacks and make-up. She was more hands-on, literally. Wherever I was standing or sitting, she always had one hand on my leg.
But when my in-laws arrived and she came down the stairs to see them, all the uneasiness about my eyeliner & mascara disappeared. We ate dinner together and then packed up the car. As we left, she was held by her jama in the doorway as we gave her kisses and waved goodbye to us with not even a whimper.
Uh, alright…. SEE YA!!!!!!!
And off we went… to a town 30 minutes away.
Yeah, 30 minutes. Can someone say E-X-O-T-I-C?
Here’s the deal. It had to do with selfishness and being a cheap skate. I wanted to spend plane ticket money or gas money on us. In a spa. With no hiking or Korean ladies staring at my birthing hips or bison poop.
But you know what we did first? We went shopping at Target’s $1 bins like it was a duty free shop on a cruise. We stocked up on 75% St Patty’s day junk. YES.
And when we checked into the hotel, I rolled around in all of that target loot on the bed. It was literally a scene from Indecent Proposal. Fricken sexy.
We checked into the room and decided to have a second dinner, just because we could. Wrong move. I’ll leave it at that. But the next morning we had a date with the adjoining spa. Both of us signed up for spa journey and in between sessions, we’d meet up in its little communal waterfall room to wait for the next. And yes, we were wearing robes.
But not for long, unfortunately for my stupidity.
Fricken SIGH. Why can’t I just walk around not making an absolute fool of myself for fricken once?
My first session was a full body scrub and when I walked in she showed me the disposable underwear to put on:
If Ruthie cries seeing me in make-up, can you just imagine how long it’s been since I’ve worn a thong? I immediately think the bigger piece of fabric is obviously for the bigger asset, right? A 14 year old could have reminded me the right way. But no, I throw that sexy piece of clothing on backwards so that when the body scrubber pulls away the sheet, she stood there quietly for a moment before pretending there was something on the ceiling really worth studying just so she didn’t have to look back down.
Talk about an indecent proposal. I think I should’ve paid her a million dollars.
When I met her back outside after jumping in the shower, she had a glass of cucumber water and said I was speedy. That was a cue to slow it down. I’ve got no nap times to race against, so just take it easy Carolyn.
My spa journey unfortunately did not improve much. I laid down for my facial and she started massaging my shoulders. Yes! This is gonna be great, I thought…. Until she pulled out what might have been the actual sun and shined it on my face. When I squinted my eyes open, the most horrific thing happened. She was lowering a huge magnifying glass down to my skin to “inspect it”.
Get the frick away from me, woman.
But she didn’t. Instead, she pointed out every blackhead on my face and poke at them as if she were tatooing the Big Dipper onto my forehead. This was followed by an examination of every wrinkle on my prematurely aging face and what I could do to mitigate it.
And the clincher? The cheerleader clap at the end when she excitedly exclaimed, “Yay for facials!!!”
Yeah… let me just grab that thong and drown myself in the hotel pool.
I did feel connected to my mom in that moment, though. I had bought her a facial for her birthday one year and the lady pointed out an oil pocket on her nose. She said, I can take care of that! and brought out a hammer and bopped her nose with it. 4 years later, mom still has the red mark from that bop. And likes to point out my birthday gift to her every once in a while.
But it also didn’t help that my boost in self-unconfidence was followed by an early round loss by my alma mater. Being depressed while pregnant is like 1000 times worse. Ryan had to peel me out of the chair to go back to the hotel. However later that night, after room service (of course) the Florida GC team’s win against Georgetown completely shifted me the other way and then some. Hello mood swings. I thought I didn’t pack you, but there you are.
We went swimming, took long showers, and ate leisurely breakfasts. It was really nice. And at some point Ryan and I started to not talk about children. We teased more, we cuddled more, and laughed more.
And ate more.
On our way home, we stopped in Jimmy John’s and noticed one of their signs that said Yesterday’s Homemade Bread 50 cents. I wondered aloud if that was a fake or real sign. Sure enough, it was real.
And five orphan loaves came home with me.
That would’ve been the topper to the weekend if this hadn’t happened yesterday:
I love cold Sunday afternoon naps, especially taken with a friend I hadn’t seen all weekend.
No offense second child, but I can’t wait for my next weekend away. And it probably will be in 18 months. That’s how long it’ll take to get over that facial.