Posts Tagged ‘pampering’

Surreal

July 15, 2017

Having a Friday off.

It didn’t feel like a Friday.

My mind was confused and wobbly.

My phone has been working oddly, text not ringing through, missed phone calls.

Sleeping in.

I mean.

For me.

Really sleeping in.

Although I awoke, as per usual in the early morning the sun light muffled and opalescent in the fog which reflects back this brightness that is at once soft and dull and too bright to sleep.

I got up and used the bathroom and crawled back into bed.

I looked at my phone.

Too early.

I have hours, literally hours before I need to be awake.

I lay for a while running through my day.

Shhh.

Stop it brain.

Let it go.

Don’t make all your plans right now.

You don’t need to be anywhere but back asleep.

There was a moment when I almost just got up.

Then.

Miraculous miracle.

I feel back asleep.

And I slept for another hour and 45 minutes!

I was shocked.

I hopped out of bed and took a super hot shower.

I pulled up my hair.

No need to wash it when I am going to be getting it done, I mean, that would be ridiculous.

And I did get it done.

I am very happy with it, even though the blow out doesn’t suit my true self, it’s just a little too polished, a little too sleek and slippery, not my real curly textured hair.

But.

I always get the blow out.

It feels so luxurious to have someone spend that much time on my hair, the gentle heat and the round brush and I just close my eyes and drift off.

My colorist did a beautiful job on my hair and no more blond highlights, all back to a nice dark chocolate-brown.

Of course my natural color is not quite as dark as she took it, but the color fades after a wash or two and then my softer highlights begin to show through.

And.

Yes.

The grays too.

They are there, springing up at my temples, in the part on my head, streaks of silver.

At lest they are silver and not grey.

They are pretty little glints in my hair, and really, I have nothing to complain about.

I mean.

I am 44 after all.

It is pretty standard for women to be greying far earlier than 44.

I have good genetics but nature does march on and I have noticed them more in my hair and I am not upset by them, just curious to see how they come in.

Almost as I am with the fine web of lines around my eyes that I see more and more when I smile.

“You are such a friendly person,” the mom I work for said to me yesterday.

We were talking about how security is at airports and how she’s been stopped and what it was like and how I have been stopped and what that was like and that it will tend to happen more for me if I am showing a lot of tattoos.

I told her I forget often times that I have tattoos, even when I am currently thinking of getting another on my right forearm and having the one on my left forearm, the one I got in Paris, touched up (as it will be difficult to take time out of my schedule and hop a plane and go back to Paris to get it touched up), that I will not realize until someone says something or stares.

“You have such a big smile,” she continued, “no one notices the tattoos so much as the smile.”

Such a nice thing to hear.

And from an employer.

I am grateful, so grateful for my employer.

I am also grateful to have some time off.

I’ll be doing a few more yoga classes during the week days.

I will find my playa bike for Burning Man.

I won’t be mail ordering it, haha, not after the last one got stolen.

I will probably also source my Aids LifeCycle bicycle, I have a couple of leads and am going to be pursuing checking them out.

I will be hitting the Imperial Day Spa with a girlfriend tomorrow after my internship, she’s been sick and asked for some hang out time and suggested the spa for an afternoon of detoxing with a good hard sweat and some cold plunge action.

Of course I said yes.

I’ll be going to my internship tomorrow, as per usual and doing laundry at the laundry mat, the washer hasn’t been replaced yet here at the house.

And I’ll go to my 7p.m. commitment on Divisadero.

It’s a good day.

Sunday will be similar to most of my Sundays–yoga, self-care, grocery shopping, meeting with a lady and doing the deal, going to a church somewhere and sitting in a folding chair, cooking some food for the week, writing.

And it will be chill.

As I still have my supervisor meeting at 9a.m. at Fell and Gough on Monday morning.

But.

Instead of going to work afterward like I typically do on a Monday.

I will be going to the MOMA with an old friend who I don’t get to see very often.

I ran into her a couple of weeks ago and we discussed getting together and we both love museums and I have a MOMA membership.

I love that  membership.

It is such a nice thing to do, go wander around and look at art, and to do it with a friend is so nice.

Especially one whom I used to see on a weekly basis and now don’t see for months at a time.

I’ve suggested a MOMA date to a lot of my friends as I slowly start mapping out the time that I have off.

I don’t know what the middle of the afternoon will look like as I still have my internship in the evening at 6:30p.m.

I am sure I will find something to do.

It is odd having the time off from work, like I said, being downtown today on a Friday, getting my hair done, I was all confused and distracted by the amount of business people out and the rushing here and there and the traffic, but it was so nice to sit still and be taken care of for a little while.

I’m going to leave it there.

It was such a lovely day off.

Divine really.

I am excited for more of such days.

And grateful for every moment of this one.

Every single moment.

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One Foot in Front

July 2, 2017

Of the other.

And moving forward and go.

Go.

Go.

It was quite a packed day, but a lovely day, a day of many smiles and laughs and appreciation for my life.

I got up and did a yoga class.

It was mediocre.

The teacher is just not a good teacher.

But I went anyway.

I always have a moment, or fifteen, when I want to email the studio and just be like, get a new instructor!  This guy sucks!

He doesn’t suck, he’s just young and not a good teacher.

He’s a great yogi.

I am I have seen him do amazing things with his body, he obviously has an incredible practice, but it doesn’t translate to being a good teacher.

So I sort of muddle through and just pat myself on the back for showing up and taking what I like and leaving the rest.

My previous teacher, God I miss him, was amazing, so I feel like there’s some disparity there, and I acknowledge that I was gifted with an extraordinary teacher for a while and thank God for that, if I had the teacher that I have now when I started I would have quit.

When his classes have been on other days I have just avoided them.

But.

My schedule is not really too flexible now in regards to when I can get into the studio, 9 a.m. on Saturday and 9 a.m. on Sunday are the two classes I know I can make and have been really rigorous about making.

So.

I’ll put up with the mediocre for now.

It will change, either he will no longer teach that time slot, other people’s schedules change, not just mine, or when I can I will take another class and opt out of the ones he teaches.

Until then, I literally suck it up and just go.

Better a mediocre yoga class then no yoga class.

Tomorrow, however, is a great teacher, and her class kicks my ass, but I get a lot more out of it and though I still have a preference for my very first teacher, he really was astounding, I like this teacher and she’s good.

And this week I’ll get to go to a morning yoga class on Tuesday.

Yes.

I will be doing yoga to celebrate the 4th of July.

I have the day off and when I have a day off I want to go to yoga.

And a friend of mine I haven’t seen in a while is going to come to class with me and then we’re going to go to Trouble Coffee and get caffeinated and catch the fuck up.

Super happy I get to see him.

He just got back from doing the Aids LifeCycle ride and he was my mentor when I rode it in 2010.

I still aspire to ride again, just now is not a good time to do it.

Perhaps after I graduate or I get my intern number and can start charging for my sessions.

Anyway, it was good to see him tonight and get in some good hugs and also to let him know I’ll have some weeks off in July and can do lunch.

I’ll probably head down to his job place and hang out with him on his lunch break.

I have that plan with another friend of mine who is also super busy in her life and we connected this past week and I told her the same thing, I will come to you, I will meet you for lunch, let’s hang out.

Whenever and wherever I can I will be seeking out social contact.

I put in 8 hours at the internship today, two of them today and the rest was seeing my supervisor on Monday and then seeing 5 clients.

Ultimately I will be seeing 8 clients.

I could possibly do 10 but I think that would be too much.

I will, however, pick up consultation hours when I have that time off from work with my family.

I will suck up as many of those as I can.

But I will also try to not work too much.

Catch up with friends, hang out, go to coffee, see my dear French friend and her little brood before they head back to France at the end of July.

There is a lot for me to do and see and be allowing myself to be seen.

Happy that is all happening.

Happy I also took care of a bunch of errands today, picking up packages at the post office and dropping off a package to return at UPS.

And I got a big grocery shopping trip in.

And I did the deal.

Which was great and picked up a commitment for Saturdays to keep me connected and not drift off into my internship land too far.

I’m trying to keep it all balanced out.

Sometimes I do better than others.

But I am getting decent sleep.

Eating really well.

In fact.

Yesterday, woo hoo, was my four-year anniversary marking my abstinence from sugar and flour.

That was nice to note.

Getting in the yoga when I can.

Doing a good job at work.

Doing a good job, I feel, at my internship.

Tomorrow I will do yoga in the am, have a nice breakfast and a latte, do some writing and then zip over to Cheap Petes and grab my prints.

I’ll be meeting with a lady at 1pm to do some work and reading and connecting.

Then a quick-lunch here.

And.

Yes.

Some pampering.

I’m getting my mani/pedi/waxing the fuck on.

So looking forward to that.

And.

After that.

A zip downtown to do some clothes shopping.

And like that.

The weekend.

Loving my life so very much.

Busiest girl in the world?

Maybe, but probably not.

Luckiest girl in the world?

Absofuckinglutely.

That Was No Fun

January 23, 2016

No fucking fun at all.

In fact.

That may officially be the worst weather I have ridden my bicycle home in ever.

Not my worst bicycle ride.

I have had a few accidents, though knock on wood, nothing in some time.

I have definitely had colder rides and thank God it was not cold tonight or I might have gotten off my bicycle crying.

Not that it didn’t look like I was crying anyway.

Hello El Nino.

Damn Gina.

That was intense.

I kept thinking of this exact moment.

This one, right here, right now.

Where I am dry, writing my blog, and have a very hot cup of tea in my hand.

Or as close to my hand as my keyboard will allow.

I don’t know how I got home.

I was hoping I would hit the window and not get the dousing.

I managed to this morning, well, it did rain on me, but I got up to 20th before it started and it was light.

The rain did fall and the traffic slowly but surely got worse and yes, I had a wobble on a train track, heart stopping, but no falls, just slick as shit.

But tonight the rain dumped and the wind was high.

It was painful riding home.

That was the worst of it.

Getting blasted in the face by the rain.

Especially when I hit the down hill portion of my ride.

Three miles or so, total of 6.5, half is up and half is down, that was just torrential and driving.

I literally said “ow” out loud at one point.

I fantasized about getting off and waiting for a MUNI, but I was riding through the park by that point and really, what’s the point.

I made it home though.

And I am dry now.

Everything came off in the garage, my shoes so wet they squished, I threw away the socks I was wearing there was so much road dirt in them they were dark grey.

Yuck.

Everything in the wash and my rain coat hanging over the handle bars of my bicycle.

At least I had a rain coat on and my fender, though the fender didn’t do much good, it was just coming down.

My bicycle is grounded for the weekend.

I need a break.

I will call a car tomorrow for the appointment and then MUNI my way back across town.

Sunday I am hoping for some decent weather, anything that is not rain, so I can run errands and go grocery shopping.

The bike can stay nice and parked and dry itself out.

I’m super grateful it’s the weekend.

It was nice to get a few extra bucks for the extra work I put in this week, but after coming off a school weekend it was tough.

I’ll be working a little extra next week too–Friday night for the parents, an extra two hours, but that’s next week.

No thinking about that now.

Get present.

Be here.

Where it is dry and lovely and Coleman Hawkins is playing on my computer.

Jazz always feels appropriate when there is rain and I am cozy inside.

I am cozy and dreaming of blonde hair.

Yup.

Tomorrow is the day.

I finally pull the trigger.

It will take two sittings, so it may not be full on blonde but, it will be heavily highlighted, it’s called a full head highlight, and I am getting a cut, which I haven’t done in a while.

I am looking forward to having my scalp rubbed and my hair washed.

I do love a good hair washing.

It’s one of those experiences that just defy explanation, I just really like having someone wash my hair, rub my scalp, some nice scratching, the lifting of the hair off the back of my neck, so divine.

Mmmmhmmm.

Ah.

I am all relaxed just thinking about it.

The process takes three hours.

I’m not sure what the second round will look like and how far she’ll be able to take down the color of my hair.

I am also wondering, curious really, how short it’s going to go, I expect that I’ll lose some length.

Then.

I am going to try to maintain it for four to six months, depending on how expensive the process is.

I plan on a range of Manic Panic self-home hair excursions after that.

Magenta, lilac, dusty rose.

Then.

I will either go and get it colored back my original color.

Or.

I will just chop it off and start from scratch.

I am looking forward to the fun.

It’s nice to let myself have a little fun, be a little frivolous, be girly.

I love that.

Ooh.

Heh.

I’ll be close to Sephora.

Mwahahahaha.

Mama needs a new lipstick too.

It may just shape up to be a girly kind of day tomorrow.

Fact is I could use it.

I deserve some pampering and it’s going to be fun to check out a new salon and a new hair stylist.

I haven’t been with anyone new in years.

I may even go with a new perfume too.

I’m getting low on my Egoiste by Chanel.

It’s time to pick up a bottle or perhaps a new scent.

I have been wearing it for so long that I realized the other day, one of two things had happened–I am either some immune to the smell of it or the bottle might be turning.

It’s not unusual for a perfume to go bad, but I have only had this particular bottle for about a year and that doesn’t seem the case.

It doesn’t smell the same though, I’ve noticed, recently, and I am tempted to get a new perfume.

New hair.

New year.

New tattoo.

New scent.

Same me.

But I’ll just be turned out a tad different.

I promise, though.

You will still get to see my heart on my sleeve.

There are just some things that never change.

 

Hello Sunshine

June 21, 2015

Good bye fog.

I am actually going to where the sun is, where the clear skies are, where the weather is what most of the rest of the country thinks about when they ponder travel to California.

Not this cold, chilly, overcast, grey, did I mention cold?

Fog.

I tried to go swim suit shopping today.

Epic fail.

I bought a scarf.

Yeah.

I know, its June 20th and all I could do is buy a scarf.

And a bag, and a cute bag at that, I’m looking forward to using it for some travel time adventures.

But I could not muster it to get a swim suit.

I did manage to get my nails done and that was nice and relaxing and a treat, especially as there was no one else in the salon and I was getting all the pampering and attention.

I’m a good tipper and I usually get some solicitous treatment when I come in, and I engage with the woman, we like each other and talk about my hair color, which is rapidly becoming blonde and will likely be blonde for the next two weeks.

I am just not going to go pink again until after I know I won’t be in the pool for a while.

The last time I went swimming at UCSF with the family, the chlorine stripped just about all the Manic Panic Hot, Hot Pink, and Cleo Rose from my hair.

Although there are a few spots underneath the bed of hair that is on my head, that have licks of bright pink in them, I am assuming that a week of working in Glen Ellen and swimming with the boys will leach the rest of the color out.

Yup, that’s right, tomorrow I will head out to Sonoma, land of sunshine and temperatures in the mid 80s to low 90s, and there will be pool time.

I am going to head out to the airport tomorrow, late afternoon, and pick up the rental car from SFO then head back towards the city, I’ll have to go back through San Francisco and cross town to get to the Golden Gate Bridge and over to Sonoma.

I figure I will hit the Sports Basement in the Presidio.

I’ll take a quick detour and grab a real swim suit.

The one I have is more of a lounge by the pool and rub sunblock on yourself will sipping iced tea, swim suit.

Not a “I’m going to be nannying two rambunctious boys and their playmates (another family will be there for three days with their two boys and baby girl) in the pool for hours” swimsuit.

I figure I’ll get a competitive suit like I used to wear on swim team in high school.

I was relating some of my adventures in high school to my new friend last night in front of the fire in the back yard.

Yes.

That’s right, there’s a fire pit in the back yard and the old white-painted Adirondack chairs were pulled up and he started the fire on one wooden match and it burned merry and bright for hours as we talked.

And talked.

And talked.

And decided.

Wait for it.

To be friends.

Sigh.

I knew it was coming at some point.

It was too good to be true.

But.

And this is such a big pause, such huge rearrangement of my inner landscape, I am grateful and feel great joy at having gotten to a place where I can hold a man’s hand and be completely vulnerable, completely myself, and listen to what the other person is saying.

Really be present.

So present that you don’t realize how late it’s getting and it’s 3:30 in the morning and my feet are cold, but my heart, oh it is on fire.

I felt so tender today when I woke up, tender, smitten, sad, full of love, full of the feels.

I didn’t want to get out of bed, the weather was not helping, it may be summer everywhere else, but Ocean Beach, San Francisco?

No.

This is winter time and it’s grey and it reminds me of how I can slide into depression if I’m not cautious and aware.

My disease wanted to harangue me and poke me and for a moment, it might have gotten under my skin.

I picked up my phone and called a girl friend while still in bed, burrowed under the blankets and head snug down in the pillows.

I said my piece to her voicemail.

I sniffled.

I cried.

I felt sorry for myself.

I put on the self-pity party hat and asked to be passed a very small violin, or in my case a junior size cello.

I mean really, I’m not a violin type of girl.

Then I called my person and said some more stuff on the voicemail.

Then I looked at my room.

All the colors, the blues and corals and the postcards and the laughter and stories that I told about them last night, last week, the last few days as I have spun through a metamorphosis of becoming, yet again, a little more my authentic self.

I got up and drank some water and tossed myself in the shower.

What had happened?

We moved too fast.

And the best thing that happened?

We talked about it like grown ups with spiritual words and kindness and compassion and utter vulnerability.

I have not had all that many relationships in my life and I am full well aware as to the whys and whereof’s; however, I will say without much thought, as it is clear and true, that I shared more with this man about myself, how I feel, what I believe, what my dreams have been and where I am going, than I have with any other man (well, any other man other than one other man, who remains anonymous here and will only be alluded to) in my life.

And I dare say, he shared at the same level.

There are no mistakes in Gods world.

I read.

I prayed.

I got on my knees in front of my fresh made bed and felt grateful, felt joy, felt such an overwhelming field of love engulf me that I knew that nothing that happened last night or the days and nights previous had been wrong or hurtful or malicious.

Just warm, bright, as honest in each moment as a person can be with the other.

There is more to come.

It’s just going to be pulled back a bit.

“I can’t be your boyfriend right now,” he said.

I deign to say how it was said or with what emotion, the words suffice, the feeling is mine to have and to cherish inside my wide open heart.

But we can be friends.

So we move forward by backing up and seeing what a friendship looks like and as I look at the void left in my life by the changing of my friendships over the last few years, the loss of some, some to marriage and babies, new careers, new cities, new states, some to relapse into the horrors of drugs and alcohol, I see quite clearly how desperate I am for such a friend.

A companion.

Someone to stand in front of a Rothko and hold hands with while the luminous colors wash over our faces.

We’re still planning on going to LA.

Sonoma is not the only place where I will be getting my fill of sunshine.

The museum adventure is still a plan.

Just with a friend.

Rather than a boyfriend.

And that.

Surprise.

Is just right by me.

My heart grows ever bigger and I know that I am becoming ever more me.

Just one more step towards God’s, not mine, perfect image of me.

Unadulterated Auntie Bubba on tap at a foggy beach near you.

At least for the next 24 hours.

Slow Down

February 23, 2015

That was my thematic for this weekend and it was fully achieved today.

I feel rested.

I feel serene.

I feel soothed.

I feel tasty.

I mean, really I do.

I smell like a dream.

I was given a pot of organic chocolate and honey face mask.

It was a fright to put on and I dare say I was tempted to lick my own face, I can’t remember the last time I had that much chocolate around my mouth (although not literally in it), and I don’t think I wanted any one to see me after doing it, but yeah.

I had a spa day.

Loads of tea.

Outdoor meditation in the back yard sitting in the sun.

Hour long walk on the beach.

I waded in the waves and was pleased to wipe salt off my skin later in the day.

I was tempted to post photographs of my toes, golden brown, basking in the sand, the sun, the surf.

But I didn’t actually take any photographs of myself today or of my doings, even when I was tempted to Instagram my lunch, I mean really it was bucolic today.

I sat in the big white-painted wood Adirondack chair in the back yard, I padded about in flip-flops all day long, I put on sunscreen, I ate strawberries warmed by the sun.

I bought myself flowers last night and they opened this morning, I feel like that, an opening flower.

I remember once being told to let myself blossom, to let myself bloom, to not force the growth, that there is beauty in the unfolding and opening of the petals.

I have a tendency towards urgency.

I want to have it all right now and right away and more, faster, more, did you hear what I said?

I want to rip the petals away from the bud and force the bloom.

I was watering my orchids today, they are in a dormant stage and not flowering and there were some parts that I thought about pruning of the plants and then I thought, nope, don’t force nature, let her do her thing.

I watered them and tended to my gigantic spider plant and lazed about my studio enjoying the golden creamy light that falls through the back door.

I wasn’t slothful today.

I was just slow.

I was present and open and allowed myself to be tender and breathe.

I also sat and bore witness to another woman for three hours this afternoon after my walk down by the sea and my lunch out in the pack patio.

I knew I need to be grounded and serene and still.

“You are so serene,” she said to me last Sunday in awe of how far I have come, “it was the most zen like share I have ever heard.”

I don’t know so much about zen.

But I have allowed myself to be slower at times, to not run so fast, to not be that moving target.

Allowing myself to be hit with love, to have emotions, to experience life, to have bittersweet moments wrapped up in the glory of the day and wanting to share it with someone, but also knowing that I was sharing it with someone.

Myself.

I am a pretty good date.

Flowers, lunch al fresco, long walks on the beach, a day at the “spa,” I mean really, what woman doesn’t want those things.

Or man for what it’s worth.

I will have a full week.

I will work an extra hour for the family, I will be going to my graduate school interview, I will be doing the deal, meeting people, speaking at a workshop, writing, blogging, living, moving, shaking.

I tell myself it’s ok to take the down time, to soften and reflect and relax.

Hell.

I read a book today and a magazine.

I lay in the long slanting sun of late afternoon and watched the sun kiss the tops of the houses behind the back yard fence and lounged with my book.

I didn’t even really cook today.

That’s something I like to do on a Sunday, but I wasn’t sure how long I would be listening, so I just kept my food simple, lots of raw veggies and homemade humus, organic hard-boiled eggs with fresh pepper and sea salt, and left over beans and rice with chicken I made the last week.

I did roast some vegetables too.

But that was the extent of my cooking.

One cast iron pan with cauliflower, garlic, sea salt, pepper, olive oil, and parsnips, roasted off in the oven while I caught up with my housemate and drank tea in her kitchen.

I can feel a slight kiss of morose as the weekend winds down and I wish to berate myself for being in my pajamas before 8 p.m.

But that’s what I do after taking a long hot shower and washing off raw cocoa organic mud mask from my face.

Douse myself in coconut butter body lotion and put on the pajamas.

Write my blog.

And yes.

I will be going to bed early.

10:30p.m.

Who is this person?

Aside from someone who likes to get 8 hours of sleep, I will be up at 6:30 a.m. to do my deal before work.

I even let myself off the hook around dating this weekend.

I feel it’s sufficient what I did over the weekend to compel someone to ask me out.

I am going to be a glowing ball of gorgeousness after all the pampering, my skin a little tan from all the sunshine, and super hydrated from all the tea.

My smile happy and big.

I took good care of myself this weekend.

So that I can take good care of those that I care for this week.

It all comes around.

But it starts with me.

It may make for a less than dramatic blog post.

However, it gives me the jazz to do all the things that do make my blog, my life, me, interesting.

Even a superhero needs a nap once in a while.

And me.

Well, I’m just a worker amongst workers.

I hung up my cape next to my beach towel and wore flip-flops all day.

I think I’m going to go put some coconut hair mousse on my curls.

And call it a day.

My super sensory spa Sunday.

Now concludes.

 

Home

June 8, 2011

Done.  I am officially done cleaning and moving and arranging.  After work tonight I met with friends at the Bahai Center then Jennifer gave me a lift back to the house.  We tucked my bike into her amazing little car, really how does my bike fit in there without even having to take off the wheel?  Ginger, my little grand doggy, was snuggled up right next to me and I shared with Jennifer how I was going home and getting into the bath tub.

It was certainly an incentive when I got my first house-warming gift, a beautifully delicious smelling bar of almond honey milk soap from Jennifer, to put into action the thought that I had been flirting with.

I gave up on the idea that I was going to come home and go clean the studio some more.  I just could not do it.  I was so exhausted at work today that I lay down to take a nap as soon as the girls were down.  I did not do my writing at nap time like I normally do.  I put S. down and then turned on the monitor and put myself out on the couch.  I drifted off as soon as I heard her settle down.

I contemplated what cleaning I needed to do when I got back to the building tonight and I thought how I would go about it and then the idea drifted lovely and lazy across my mind, that perhaps, just perhaps, it would be off better use of my time to come home and take a bath.

As soon as Jennifer gave me the bar of soap I knew that the universe wanted exactly that for me.  I parked my bike in the “garage” pulled off my bike shoes, took care of the cats and striped down.  I filled the claw foot tub with bubbles and loads of hot water.  I folded a towel across the back and got the Vogue down from its perch.  I had put jazz on the Ipod player and lit candles in the other room.  Not so much so that I could see them, they were after all a hallway and two rooms away, but rather so that I could revel in the ambiance of lit candles in my space when I came out from my bath tub.

And oh what a bath tub.  Deep and long and wide.  The kind of bathtub that a woman like I dreams of being able to enjoy but does not ever think she shall possess–one that is long enough for her long legs.  I am 5’8 1/2″.  My bathtub is so long I was able to sit in it with my legs fully outstretched and my back was not even touching the back of the tub.  I was able to recline with my head on a folded towel and have my legs completely submerged.  Sublime.

This is the kind of tub I want to have my boyfriend sit in.  My “fantasy” boyfriend.  I had this flash from the Sex in the City episode where Sarah Jessica Parkers character, Carrie, is taking a bath with her boyfriend Aiden, who by the way I would have chosen over Mr. Big any fucking day.  Thank you very much.

Aiden sits in the tub with her.  Now SJP is a tiny little thing, so that bathtub did not have to be very big.  I don’t think I could even dream about that fantasy until tonight.

Hey universe, want to send me a boyfriend to sit behind me in my gigantic bathtub who will wash my hair.  That would be the epitome of sexiness.  I don’t want sex, I want a man to wash my hair.  I don’t admit it very often, but the act of having my hair washed is probably the  biggest turn on I have.  Maybe not so much as having my neck kissed, that may win out, but a man washing my hair (other than my hairstylist Calvin, love you man, but let’s just keep it professional), dreamy.  It may have something to do with the fact that I used to have an enormous amount of hair and it was always a chore to wash.

But there is something sensual and caring and pampering about it too.  Not to say that I needed it, or need it, it’s rather just a nice little fantasy at the moment.  I took my time in the bath soaking and “read” my Vogue from cover to cover.  I smelled the soap and bubbles and let myself finally relax.  I almost did not want to get out and write this blog, but this expression is also a part of my self-care and I do not think I could have gotten into bed happy with myself if I had not written.

Suffice to say, it was dazzling to walk back down the long hallway into my living space, see the candles flickering in the fireplace, hear the jazz issuing forth, and putting a kettle on, I made a little snack in the kitchen.  A snack I ate in another room away from my bed, right next to my sumptuous yellow roses I picked up for myself on Saturday when I was up in Noe Valley.  I looked around my apartment and almost cried.

You did it kid.  You really did it.


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