My wife decided to plan a brief weekend get-away for our anniversary. We decided to stay in a beautiful resort which was nestled in the foothills of West Tucson. It was the kind of resort where every time you turned around someone for the hotel would respond with “Is there anything I can get you?”
Since were staying in a “spa-like” resort, my wife decided to surprise me with a very unique gift. Mind you, when my wife says she has a surprise for me, I get very worried – this time was no exception. Andrea decided to contact the hotel spa in advance and arrange for me to be treated to a facial.
A knew that women have these facials all the time, but I wasn’t quite sure what the process was like. My first thought was, “Here it is our 16th wedding anniversary and after all this time my wife has concluded that she dislikes the way I look. Aging has taken its toll, but I wasn’t sure about the need for this surprise! After all, isn’t it true that women are the one’s who are supposed to look good for their men?
During our anniversary stay, I began asking my wife about what I was in for with this “facial.” I felt like I was moving into the unknown and needed some reassurance. Would it be like a massage? Would there be weird music playing and incense burning? Who would be doing this to me and what plan of action would this facial take? Would she put mud on my face? How about cucumbers on my eyes? It all seemed rather scary. My wife sensed my humorous apprehension.
I decided that I needed to do what I tell my patients to do – take those deep breaths and let it all out. I was afraid that other men would see me enter the spa, so I decided to have my wife escort me to the spa center. You would have thought I was preparing for emergency surgery. While Andrea waited in the spa center, I was escorted by a gentleman to a locker room where I prepared for my adventure by putting on a robe and a pair of flip-flops. The gentleman then brought me some green tea as I waited for the arrival of the “facial masseuse.” A delightful, charming young lady came to the door and said, “Are you Mr. Krehbiel?” Nobody’s called me Mr. Krehbiel since my teaching days and very few people ever pronounce my name accurately. She had my interest. She was the master healer. The goddess of facials!
We walked down the hallway to a tiny room. I lay down on a massage table and waited for her to enter. The rest of the experience is rather foggy. I do remember that she put all kinds of creams and oils on my face, as well as my feet and hands. I recall that the room was steamy. She had the weird music playing. She talked calmly in a soothing voice. I was mesmerized. She moisturized my feet and hands and then placed them in plastic bags. They were left that way until the end of the facial.
When I left, my wife saw my new face - a softer, gentler, glowing looking me. Even though I don’t remember each step of the procedure, I know it involved creams, oils, steam and wraps for my hands and feet.
I told my wife to never tell anyone about my spa experience. But she had already told her best friends. Now I have to live with any impact on my reputation. Now I have to face them with my soft, smooth, glowing, younger looking skin. Pity me!
James P Krehbiel, Ed.S., LPC, CCBT is an author, freelance writer, and a cognitive-behavioral therapist practicing in Scottsdale, Arizona. He recently released Stepping Out of the Bubble available at www.amazon.com. He can be reached at (480) 664-6665 or his website at www.krehbielcounsling.com.
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