lady of leisure
I completely forgot to write about the wonderfully fantastic spa day I had recently. My brilliant husband (he just ran a marathon, you know) gave me the gift of a super duper extra luxurious with bells on spa day for Christmas, and I finally redeemed the voucher a couple of weeks ago. If I could purr, that's the only noise I would have made the entire day. But then again if I could purr, that would make me allergic to myself and that could get annoying pretty quickly.
Anyway. Spa day. It was at a posh gym in Cambridge, which meant that I got some rather strange looks as I waddled around on a tour of the facilities. People probably wondered how I was possibly going to sit on an exercise bike or get back out of the rowing machine. My day started with a long swim (and by "swim" I mean a gentle paddle back and forth a few times for show, not getting my face wet because I'm wearing contacts) and a long soak in a spa. I was beyond thrilled to discover that they had a "cool spa" (pregnant women shouldn't use hot spas) that was the same temperature as the pool. I sat in bubbly goodness for ages and ages, and shut my eyes. Mmm yes. The changing room was lovely, complete with a clever little machine that spins your swimsuit around until it's almost dry, so that you don't have to shove a wet suit in your bag afterwards. I then had some lunch and some time to spare, allowing me a brief journey to the local retail estate and a peek at the new Habitat.
When I returned, I was shown to my pampering room and for the first time in ages, was able to lie on my belly as they had a special pregnancy massage table with a cut out bit for my bump. They really need to create a table with a cut out bit for pregnancy boobs, but I'm not that fussy. I had an hour long massage, followed by some sort of exfoliating treatment (my arms are still baby bottom soft). Then I had my very first facial, and I have no clue what was done to me. Things were rubbed into my skin, wiped off, layered on top and left to dry, wiped off again, while the beautician gently massaged my face with little butterfly movements. The finale involved a manicure and a pedicure, the latter being a huge treat when one can no longer reach one's toes. Or see them...apparently they do look nice.
Scrumptious. Want one every week, please.
So in a similar vein, I am about to enjoy the luxury of being a lady of leisure when my maternity leave starts at the end of the day. It's always a bit strange going on leave, because it's not often you leave a job and return to it at a later point. This means I've got to actually do a decent job and wrap everything up nicely, and I can't march around the office telling everyone precisely what I think of them. How boring.
I will enjoy this time while I can, before the chaos of life with toddler and newborn commences. I might not get out of my pyjamas for a week. I might not wear makeup for a month. I might spent my afternoons with my mummy friends and eat cake. I might watch the seven episodes of "Desperate Housewives" I've got recorded on Sky+.
I might blog more. Gosh.