I have arrived! At 30 years YOUNG, that is. Yes, the big day has come and gone. I survived to tell about it, did not shed a tear, and am not depressed. Actually, I was pleasantly surprised!
Since our big day (I say our, because DH and I share a birthday-he’s just one year older than me) fell on a Monday and he would be working, we decided to celebrate Sunday.
At church they sang us “Happy Birthday”, my favorite aunt cooked us lunch with white chocolate macadamia nut cookies for dessert, and MIL volunteered for the girls to spend the afternoon and night with them.
DH, being the last minute (or should I say NO) planner that he is (God love him), took me to the mall and to a very nice dinner.
The mall was……ummmmm……….interesting to say the very least! All I wanted to do was run in the Disney Store to see if they had any summer stuff on clearance yet-to put away for our upcoming Disney Cruise. They did not, so we found ourselves with time to kill.
DH recently went to witness a friend of the family be inducted into the NFL Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio, and while there he and a buddy had “massages” in the mall. He decides that we could pass time with a similar thing here in the mall. *insert eye roll*
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a “pamper me” type girl and I usually LOVE having a massage, but in the MALL?! You’ve got to be kidding me! Massages happen in a spa-NOT the mall.
But, despite my better judgment screaming, “NO!”, I agree anyway.
We stroll into the “Relaxation Station” and I’m immediately skeeved out. I told DH that I felt like I was in one of those cheap “sex for hire” parlors :/ They had hot pink and lime green lighting and asked us to wait on a yucky old couch. (I really wish you could see the disdain on my face!)
We sat there, nervously waiting. Sounds of human flesh being slapped kept radiating through to us and DH said, in one of his dry comedy voices, “sounds like whoop ya!” I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing! All of my nerves had to escape somehow and laughing was better than crying-which is what I seriously wanted to do.
No sooner than I had my giggles contained, a middle aged Japanese lady comes forward and calls me back for my turn. Oh boy.
She asked me to remove my shoes and lie face down on the massage table. There are just thin metal looking partitions between each of the tables and the chick beside me was currently getting her “whooping”.
Fighting the urge to run, I laid down. The torture began. I thought several times that a camera crew was sure to emerge and announce I was being featured on a show about how long customers would endure crazy situations without blowing their gaskets. This was the most fierce, brutal, and painful “massage” I’ve ever experienced. Seriously, a gift certificate to the “Relaxation Station” is now my revenge plot of choice.
After grinding my back with her elbows, karate chopping, and (for lack of a better term) bitch slapping the entire length of my body, my 30 minutes in Hell were over.
As I walked back to the front of the torture chamber I realized DH was still sitting on the crummy couch, in the exact same spot I had left him! He chickened out! ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?! He literally hooted with laughter when he saw me! The audacity!
I scooted out of there as quickly as I could while he paid and literally doubled over in hysterics! He came out and asked what was so funny and I couldn’t even answer. He laughed and made comments about how rough I looked and all the strange sounds that kept drifting up front. When I got in the car and finally got a glimpse of myself in a mirror, I was convulsing-you know-mouth open, hands clapping like a seal, but no noise coming out! It was absolutely THAT bad!
My hair was all a mess, my eye lashes were stuck to my eyelids, and there were tiny diamond shapes imprinted all over my face from the paper towel covering the face hole of the table. Hot. Mess.
I finally got calmed down and put back together. Dinner was fabulous. And because the girls weren’t home, I got to sleep in on my actual birthday morning. YES!
I woke up sore, like I had been in a cat fight, with actual bruises, from my “massage”-but the day was wonderful and filled with texts, calls, Facebook wishes, cards, visitors, gifts, and cupcakes. DH even snuck a birthday cake in right before dinner! (Yes, my name is spelled wrong on the cake, BUT, is WAS chocolate-my favorite!)
30 was fun. I’ll never forget it! And to be honest, I don’t feel any different now than when I was 29. In fact, I’m kind of loving it-Flirty 30! The pressures of a 20-something are gone!
Tell me some great things about your 30’s! What fabulousness waits in store?!
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