Will you rub my feet?

The first foot rub I can remember came not so much out of pampering but rather necessity. You see, as a small child growing up in rural Canada, the popular winter thing to do is play hockey. In a rink or on frozen pond, if there is a patch of ice bigger than 5 feet across, you break out your skates and sticks. I will be the first to admit I wasn't really very good at hockey. I was a boy in the community and thus expected to play. But I do remember having fun. I think I particularly liked the piece of chocolate we would get between periods in the locker room or the hamburgers that the rinks had; a special after game treat. I can remember my dad coming into the locker room with all of the other dads between periods to basically rub our feet. You see most rural ice rinks of the my childhood used real ice. Thus the rink itself was freezing cold and all they did was flood a flat covered surface with water. When it got warmer outside, the ice melted, as simple as that. And if you've ever worn skates, hockey or figure, your feet freeze really fast. Leather and canvas do not good insulators make! So my dad would take off my skates and rub my feet vigorously to get the blood circulating and feeling back into my poor childhood toes. There was something very comforting about the whole thing. When we got sick my mom or dad would rub our backs and chests with Vicks Vapo Rub or whatever generic brand we seemed to have at the time. I can also remember getting back rubs when I was upset or just had a hard time sleeping. There is some real power to healing hands. I think each member of our family has been spoiled in some way and I know that we all just love to get a good foot of back rub and all of our trials and stresses just seem to melt away. :)

I recently made a trek to a spa in downtown New York. I had a gift certificate which I had not used in quite some time and finally made the call to book my day of relaxation. The spa allowed you to come up to 2 hours before your treatments to enjoy an array of luxuries. Steam room, sauna, hot tub, cold plunge pool, waterfalls, sunlit seating areas, all the tea and lemon water you could drink; all the while wrapped in your comfy robe feeling like a million dollars. It was wonderful. I had booked a massage, a facial, a manicure and pedicure. (thank you Rob for the treat) I was going to be at said spa for about 5 hours. I could not wait. So I changed into my swim trunks and robe and descended the stairs of luxury to begin my spa extravaganza. There were a select few enjoying the amenities along with me. I created stories in my mind about the 2 upper east side women on their weekly spa and gossip trek. The couple on a last effort retreat to patch up an obviously shaky marriage. Then there was the 3 young girls with a lot of money, and judging from their suits, not a lot of taste. I pretended I was someone important, it made me feel like I belonged. After all, didn't they know who some people think I might be??? The time came for my massage and I presented myself at the appointed room. My masseuse was a lovely young lady who was kind not to apply too much pressure and bruise my delicate skin. I almost fell asleep, the combination of eucalyptus and back rub was heaven. I could really get used to this! Then it was upstairs for my facial. Now I have never had one, and had no idea what to expect. Like a typical man, when the woman asked if I had any questions I said, "No." I was stretched out upon a bed in a very dimly lit room. She began by ever so gently massaging my face with two fingers, then a series of hot towels and spritzes of some lemony concoction. It smelled like TheraFlu. Then she gently washed my face, more hot towels, then some kind of steam thing with a muddy guck on my face. Delicate warm pillows on my eyes, more lotions and creams, I mean seriously like at least 20. Hot stone massage under my neck and shoulder, more hot towels. I was thinking, I could really get used to this. Then she said she noticed I had some blackheads on my nose and forehead and was going to do some extracting. (I would like to take this moment to interject that up until this point I was already booking facials every other month in my mind and trying to figure out why everyone in the world doesn't do this. The pampering was so relaxing and glorifying. I totally got it) So, miss thing is going to do some extracting!!! "Do you have some fancy high powered suction vacuum," I joked. "No" she said, "I am going to use my finger wrapped in cotton." SAY WHAT?!?! And for the next 10 minutes she proceeded to squeeze the crap (literally) out of my nose. At one point she had one finger up my nostril while digging in with her Wolverine claws to get every single black head out of my nose. A few tears streamed down my face. Have you ever tried to pop a blackhead from your nose, especially the side part?? Forget it, its impossible!! Not for lobster hands there. She got every single one!!! Then she clawed the heck out of my forehead too. I'd have rather met a rabid bobcat in the bush. So about now I'm thinking how pretentious. People pay to have someone squeeze their blackheads? What would she have done had I had a pimple? I shudder to think what kind of knitting needle she would have taken to my face! The painful part over, she wrapped my face in hot towel once more, spread a thin layer of what felt like battery acid on my face, and gently continued on with her task. A series of cool creams and masks followed, along with the warm eye pillows and hand massage and the experience was over. I did feel very rejuvenated. I glanced in the mirror after, I was glowing and every nose pore was clear! I had half an hour to kill before my manicure, so I stepped into the juice bar to enjoy a freshly squeezed treat and a quick bite before getting my nails done. I opted for a vegetarian wrap, seemed like the healthy thing to do and a mixture of freshly juiced oranges, apples and pears. Yummy!!! Until my tongue started to itch and my throat started to close up!!! CRAP!!! If you do not know I have a sever allergy to nuts and fish. Veggie sandwich, hmm, they must have snuck some nuts in there somewhere. I ran to the locker room to get my trusty pills to combat this deathly attack. (10 minutes until my pedicure) I didn't have my trusty Chlorotripolan with me, and there was no way I was giving myself my needle, this reaction wasn't that sever, so I took my other pills that are mostly for seasonal allergies. (do not take with citrus, printed clearly on the bottle I might add) So because I'm a man and a Ukrainian, I'm thick headed and stubborn, so I present myself to the pedicurist. After all, I paid for this darn thing, and the fact that my veggie sandwich is churning like fresh butter in my stomach is irrelevant. Sure, turn on the massage chair while I get my feet clipped, greased, scrubbed and rubbed! I'm willing to bet under normal circumstances this is quite refreshing. Me, just trying not to barf into the water my feet are soaking in! Then my hands. Can't you go any faster I think to myself? Yes, yes this is my first time. Oh yes this is nice. No thank you, no polish is necessary. STOP WITH THE SMALL TALK OLD GREEK WOMAN, JUST CLIP MY NAILS AND LET ME GET OUT OF HERE!!! I had downed about 3 glasses of lemon water too, usually water helps dilute the tingling in my throat. So I am finished at last, nails look great by the way, so I run to the locker room, itchy tongue, tingly throat, churny stomach and spent the next 10 minutes ruining my newly blackhead free face by puking my guts out!! I think I actually threw up a shoe, that's how bad it was. I wiped the vomit from my cheek, got dressed, checked out my glowing face in the mirror one last time, quickly signed the check and hailed a taxi to take me to the nearest hospital; which was across town. And not an emergency room at all. So, I got into another taxi and had him take me to the nearest emergency room, which was across town the other way. I presented myself to the ER, told them I was experiencing an allergic reaction, was quickly whisked into a small cubicle, ironically the size of my facial room, and hooked up to 4 IV bags filled with various medications to subside my stomach, throat and probably nerves. One nurse commented that my face looked a little red. I told him I had just had a facial. He laughed. I died a little inside. Only hours ago I was sitting across from high society. Now I lay next to a homeless man with a bed pan. 3 hours later I was sent home with a belly full of cold pasta and peas, a very groggy disposition, and the softest hands I've ever had.

Dear Diary, where are those hockey rink hamburgers when you need them?