Once a month I indulge in my “girly” side with a trip to the salon. It’s a world of female indulgences. While sitting and waiting my turn for beautification, I was skimming a recent “women’s” magazine and came across an article on new ways to reclaim one’s perky breasts. The thought occurred to me that if I’m worried about a partner being disappointed in my almost-sixty-year-old, less than perky breasts, I’m probably wading in the kiddie pool end of the ocean of life.
The models and movie starlets had flawless skin; no sagging upper arms or furrowed brows. I looked up at myself in the mirror then glanced at the folks surrounding me. Real life was a different picture, but no one seemed particularly bothered by the stark contrast. I watched one proud technician sporting a huge pregnant belly sashay past and admired her girth.
For several hours I watched as women came and went in various stages of renewal. Those who had just endured hair removal bore tender looking upper lips, others with new hair-styles glanced appreciatively into the mirrors as they craned their necks for a 360° view. They chatted about their kids, the news, schools, marriage, and weekend plans. I felt one with an odd band of co-conspirators taking time out to sharpen our weapons and step back from the routine.
Guilty pleasures are rare these days in my life. I have given up all but a few. Sunday night is still my “Spa Night” as it used to mean the start of another work week and I would crawl out of my barn clothes and plan my attack on Wall Street. It took a good hot soak and a shift of attitude to get me in the mood to pick out my work-week “armor” and switch my brain over to that persona. These days there is less shift and certainly the wardrobe is simpler but I still indulge in a night of feeding my skin and relaxing.
Aside from those late night pistachio binges, my guilty pleasures have become few and far between…
Therapeutic Misadventures 
Love it… every woman who reads this today knows exactly what you are describing, Love the line about stages of renewal. My guilty pleasure, at 60, is a bi monthly trip to the chiropractor followed by an hour with a physical therapist/masseuse…. Ok, maybe not entirely guilty pleasure, but one of absolute necessity if I want to get up and out of bed, a chair, the car!
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A massage for any reason sounds like a wonderful guilty pleasure!
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Good for you to do something that makes you feel girly and special. We all need it some times. I have no interest in reading any articles about “firming my breasts”. They are what they are! Take ‘me or leave ‘me!
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Laughing all the way on this one!
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Maybe fewer, but the quality can’t be disputed. Thanks for the smiles from this post
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thanks sliding a note under the door, Phil. This blogging is another “guilty pleasure,” right?
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It’s hard to get excited over many of those things that we once looked forward to with great expectation. I look back and sometimes wonder why I even cared about some of the things that I did.
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Ah such wise words, my friend. Thanks for stopping by…
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‘guilty pleasures’ – It’s an interesting expression, isn’t it? Not just pleasurable, but so good you might feel guilty. Thanks for your lovely description of your routine. Makes me wish for a steam room!
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I was intrigued by your ID so I went to read some of your posts! Wow! Thank you so much for your comment and for reading along. I’m now Guilty of jealous I’m afraid.
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We’ll have some fun keeping up with each other, as your blog was a treat. Thanks for taking the time to read me. All the best – Susan
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A little pampering is never a bad thing.
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If we don’t pamper ourselves, no one else will!
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