I went away for a girls’ night. Unlike my Girl Scouts outing where I slept on the floor, wedged between a jelly fish tank and a fire exit, this time I had a real bed. A murphy bed. Which I shared. But still. A serious improvement for a woman 7 months pregnant.
We went to one of those spa places where you pay someone a lot of money to give you a massage while they talk nonstop about their crazy childhood growing up in a shady section of Brooklyn. I didn’t actually end up getting a treatment because it sort of wigs me out to have a stranger touching me in some dark room without buying me drinks first.
I mostly went for exercise walks, put my feet in the hot tub, wandered around, and discovered once again that I totally suck at relaxing. It’s especially hard to relax and let go when they put the calories and fat content on their menus.
66 grams of fat in a chicken and arugula salad?!
There were a lot of women at this spa and everyone was wearing white robes so it started to feel like some kind of strange cult. I applaud the very few brave men who put on the robes (don’t do that again) but mostly, it was white robed women everywhere.
I ignored the No Cell Phones signs and tried to get a photo for you but it’s weird – women do not like getting photographed without proper clothes and makeup.
I put on a robe for 3 seconds but they don’t exactly mesh with a pregnant woman’s physique.
OMG. I sent that photo to my husband so he wouldn’t forget how sexy I am.
See, I look much better here…
That night we went to Mohegan Sun, the casino. Judging from the cigarette smoke in the place, I think my unborn baby smoked about a half a pack of cigarettes while I was there. Ugh.
I gambled a little and won 14 cents.
Truthfully, I gambled $5 and won $.14 so maybe it wasn’t a total win. Some of my girlfriends started to fade as their buzzes wore off and it got late, but I was like a cigarette smoke powered pregnant ninja, secretly lurking behind the poker tables, so no one would make me take them home.
Eventually I got tired too and headed back to the the white robe compound. The next day, we headed back to our normal lives.
It’s hard to return home after being away. I really did enjoy not picking up toys and not feeding anyone but myself for 36 hours.
Because when you’re in the thick of family chaos, you kind of feel like a hostage and just learn to love your captors but once you get away, you’re like hold on a second, “There are people who relax, exercise and eat meals with 66 grams of fat without interruptions?! This is awesome.”
But I knew the life of the robe was not for me (see earlier photo for evidence) and I came home to feed children, pick up toys and kiss sweet, adorable and sometimes cranky faces. I missed my captors.
mama bird notes:
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